min4xo

but the old me is still me and maybe the real me and I think she’s pretty ✰

[minasw0rld]

welcome to my blog!!

About me:

☆ Billie eilish☆ music ☆art ☆doing my nails☆ dark red☆ fall☆wlw☆ kisses☆ vinyls☆ lip gloss☆my diary☆

- english is not my first language!!

About my blog:

probably gonna write for Billie A LOT but if you have any requests plssss let me know

Also if you want someone to talk to you can always text me

masterlist

Love y’all 💋

[velvetgurofemme]

I hope I'm your favorite lesbian loser

[lalaleeiillaa]

my two emotions after reading a fic that lowk changed my perspective on life

[yoonchaesno1]

me when any of @thecchiiiiiiii 's works 🚬🚬🚬

[b44byfr0g]

“Owww, kinktober is over 😔😔😔”

AS IF YOU DIDN’T READ SMUT ALL YEAR ROUND, YOU WHOREEEEEE

[graceywritess]

“THE SEX TAPE” -g!pbillie imagine

synopsis: billie’s sex tape gets leaked and the girl who was behind the camera frame happens to be the interviewer’s roommate that interviews billie.

contains: unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex? blowjob, fingering, manipulation, spanking, dirty talk. 18+ minors dni!

⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ :¨ ·.· ¨: ⋆ ˚｡

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . 𐙚

billie's phone buzzed violently against the glass coffee table.

the screen lighting up with notifications.

twitter, instagram, tiktok.

all screaming about the same thing. she didn’t need to open them. She already knew.

her fingers hovered over the screen, thumb hesitating before finally tapping on a tweet. The video autoplayed before she could stop it.

the angle was low, shaky, like it had been filmed from someone’s lap.

billie’s face was half-hidden in shadow, but there was no mistaking the sharp cut of her jaw, the way her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she moved between the girls thighs.

the audio was muffled, but the moans, the girl., unmistakably hers—filled the room.

billie’s stomach dropped.

She scrolled.

“HOLY SHIT BILLIE EILISH HAS A DICK??”

“the way she eats pussy… i’m actually deceased.”

“this is revenge porn. take it down.”

“feels illegal to watch but i’m saving this.”

her throat tightened.

she should’ve been furious. she should’ve been calling her team, her lawyers, someone. but instead, she just… stared.

because the comments weren’t what she expected.

no disgust. no outrage. just… hunger.

a lot of it.

billie exhaled sharply, tossing her phone onto the couch like it had burned her.

she needed air. She needed to not be in her own head right now.

she grabbed her keys.

𓍯

claudia opened the door before billie could even knock.

her sister-in-law’s expression was unreadable.

somewhere between concern and ‘oh god, not this again’.

billie didn’t wait for an invitation. She pushed past her, kicking off her shoes with more force than necessary. “you saw it, didn’t you?”

claudia sighed, shutting the door behind her. “girl, it’s all over tiktok. and instagram. And—"

“twitter. yeah. i got the memo.” billie dragged a hand through her hair, fingers scraping against her scalp. “does finn know?”

claudia gave her a look.

billie groaned. “that bad?”

“he’s pissed.”

“it’s not like my face is even clear in it—”

“billie.” claudia cut her off, voice sharp. “it’s very clear.”

billie’s jaw clenched.

of course it was.

because the universe had a sick sense of humor.

she stormed past claudia, heading straight for the basement studio. she didn’t bother knocking.

finn was at the mixing board, back turned, shoulders tense. he didn’t look up.

billie dropped onto the couch, peeling off her socks just for something to do with her hands. “so. you gonna yell at me or what?”

finn spun around, eyes blazing. “you wanna explain why the fuck you leaked a sex tape the day before press?”

billie’s head snapped up. “i didn’t leak shit!”

“then who the fuck did?”

“the girl I hooked up with, apparently!” billie shot back, voice rising. “she filmed it without me knowing—”

“save it.” finn’s voice was ice.

billie’s stomach twisted.

He never shut her out like this.

“finn—”

“go home, billie.” he turned back to the board, knuckles white around the fader. “you’re got press tomorrow. focus on that.”

billie’s chest ached.

she shoved her feet back into her shoes, stomping up the stairs before the sting in her eyes could turn into anything worse.

claudia caught her at the door. “he’ll cool off.”

billie didn’t answer.

she wasn’t so sure.

𓍯

nessa had watched the tape seven times.

eight, if you counted the time she’d paused it to screenshot billie’s face.

lips parted, eyes dark, fingers gripping the girl’s legs up, before sending it to the group chat.

her phone buzzed.

“bro she’s so hot wtf”

“is that a DICK!”

“ness show US EVERYTHING”

nessa smirked, typing out a response when her bedroom door flew open.

eleanor stood there, cheeks flushed, eyes wide.

nessa’s grin faded. “what’s wrong?”

eleanor swallowed hard. “i… have to tell you something.”

nessa paused the video.

eleanor took a shaky breath. “i leaked that tape.”

silence.

“WHAT?”

eleanor flinched. “i didn’t mean to! We were drunk, and i was vloging on my camera glasses, and I forgot they were recording—”

“you forgot?” nessa’s voice was dangerously calm. “ellie. that’s insane.”

eleanor’s face crumpled. “i know! but it’s too late now. it’s everywhere—”

nessa grabbed her laptop, pulling up the burner account eleanor had used. the notifications were endless.

she clicked play.

the video was grainy but clear. billie, hovering over eleanor, lips trailing down her stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of her boxers—

and then.

oh.

nessa’s breath caught.

billie really did have a dick.

a rather large one.

she slammed the laptop shut.

ellie looked like she might throw up.

nessa took a deep breath. “you don’t tell anyone. not the group chat. not your followers. no one.”

eleanor nodded frantically.

nessa’s phone buzzed again.

her boss.

“you’re interviewing billie eilish tomorrow.”

nessa’s stomach flipped.

this was going to be interesting.

𓍯

billie’s penthouse was exactly what nessa had expected. expensive, minimalist, and very billie.

nessa smoothed her blazer, stepping inside as the crew set up.

then billie walked in.

red roots. icy blue eyes. that look like she already knew every thought in Nessa’s head.

nessa’s mouth went dry.

“hi,” she managed. “it’s nice to meet you.”

billie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “you too.”

the interview started smoothly. tour talk, album theories, the usual fluff.

then nessa saw the question on the cards.

the one about the tape.

her stomach dropped.

she glanced at the producer, who just shrugged.

oh, hell no.

nessa stood abruptly, storming off set.

“what the fuck?” she hissed at the manager. “we agreed no tape questions!”

the manager held up his hands. “it’s what the fans want.”

“i don’t care—”

“nessa.” billie’s voice cut through the chaos.

nessa turned.

billie was still on the couch, calm as ever. “it’s fine. ask.”

nessa hesitated.

then she sat.

“so,” she started carefully, “about the tape—”

“i didn’t leak it,” billie said flatly. “some girl I hooked up with did. and no, i won’t name her.”

nessa’s pulse spiked.

billie knew.

she really knew.

the interview ended abruptly after that, billie walking off set with a quiet “i need a minute.”

nessa found her in the bedroom, mascara smudged, hands shaking.

“billie—”

“don’t .” billie’s voice cracked. “just… don’t.”

nessa sat beside her. “i know who leaked it.”

billie went very still.

“eleanor,” nessa admitted. “my roommate.”

billie laughed—sharp, humorless. “i knew that already.”

nessa blinked. “what?”

billie wiped her face, smearing black streaks across her cheeks. “i knew you knew her. i knew you’d tell me if i played it right.”

nessa’s stomach twisted.

billie had manipulated her.

“you used me,” nessa breathed.

billie’s smile was all teeth. “and you let me. and i really don’t care about myself getting leaked, it’s happened so many time, i was just annoyed your friend didn’t tell me.”

nessa saw livid. “so, you knew about the fucking questions? and you didn’t tell me that you were okay with answering it?”

billie just shrugged, smirking.

“girl…fuck… you.” nessa gets up.

but billie moved faster than nessa expected, fingers wrapping around her throat from behind her.

“say that again,” billie whispered, breath hot against nessa’s lips. “i dare you.”

nessa’s pulse pounded in her ears.

“fuck you,” she gasped.

billie grip tightened.

then she kissed her. billie had gotten up, push nessa so her back hit the wall with a thud.

billie’s fingers tightening around her throat just enough to make her pulse jump.

the air between them crackled with something dangerous.

something electric, nessa could feel it in the way billie’s breath hitched, in the way her icy blue eyes darkened with something feral. she should’ve been scared. she wasn’t.

“you got a lot of fucking nerve,” billie growled.

her voice low and rough, her thumb pressing into the space of nessa’s throat.

“coming into my house, lying to my face, acting like you give a shit.”

nessa smirked.

her hands coming up to grip billie’s wrists, not to pull her off but to feel the tension in her muscles.

the way her body trembled with barely restrained rage.

“oh, i give a shit,” she murmured, her voice dripping with defiance. “just not about you.”

billie’s lips curled into a snarl.

her free hand sliding down nessa’s body.

fingers hooking into the waistband of her slacks.

“that’s funny,” she gritted, yanking them down in one rough motion.

the fabric pooling around nessa’s ankles. “because you’re about to.”

nessa gasped as billie’s fingers dipped between her thighs.

finding her already wet, her cunt throbbing with the kind of need that made her stomach twist.

billie’s chuckle was dark, mocking.

“fuck, you’re soaked,” she breathed, her fingers sliding through nessa’s labia with ease.

“you been thinking about this? about me?”

nessa didn’t answer.

her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as billie’s fingers pressed against her clit.

rubbing rough circles that made her hips jerk.

billie leaned in.

her lips brushing against nessa’s ear.

“say it,” she demanded, her voice a whisper. “tell me you wanted this.”

“fuck you,” nessa choked out.

but her body betrayed her.

her thighs trembling, her cunt clenching around the air.

billie just smirked, her fingers pushing inside without warning, fucking her deep.

her thumb pressing down on her clit with enough pressure to make her see stars.

“that’s what i thought,” billie murmured, her breath hot against nessa’s skin.

“you’re just another desperate little slut, aren’t you?”

nessa’s nails dug into billie’s arms.

her back arching off the wall as billie’s fingers curled inside her.

hitting that spot that made her go crazy. she was close, so close, but billie pulled her hand away, leaving her gasping, her thighs slick with her own arousal.

“you thought i was gonna let you come,” billie taunted.

stepping back just enough to strip off her own clothes. leaving her in just her boxers and bra.

the outline of her cock pressed against the fabric. nessa’s mouth watered at the sight, her fingers itching to touch. to even taste.

billie grabbed her by the hair, yanking her forward until she was on her knees.

her face level with billie’s cock. “taste it,” she ordered.

nessa didn’t hesitate, her lips wrapping around billie’s tip, her tongue swirling around the head before taking her deep.

billie’s groan was guttural as nessa took her in more. her fingers tightening in nessa’s hair as pushed her head deeper and deeper.

her hips jerking forward with every thrust.

nessa could feel her throat stretching, her jaw aching, but she didn’t stop.

her fingers digging into billie’s thighs as she took her deeper, her nose pressed against billie’s stomach.

“fuck, just like that, you take it so fucking good.” she chuckled into her moan.

nessa could hear the muffled voices of billie’s team downstairs.

their laughter filtering through the floorboards, but she didn’t care.

her entire world narrowed down to the weight of billie’s cock on her tongue.

the way her fingers twisted in her hair.

the way her breath hitched with every bob of nessa’s head.

billie pulled out suddenly, her cock glistening with saliva, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“on the bed,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument. “now.”

nessa didn’t need to be told twice.

she scrambled onto the bed, her body trembling with anticipation as billie climbed over her, her hands gripping nessa’s hips hard enough to bruise.

“you’re gonna take every fucking inch of me,” billie growled, her lips brushing against nessa’s ear.

“and you’re not gonna come until i say so.”

she barely had time to nod before billie was pushing herself inside her. the stretch burning with anticipation, the fullness overwhelming.

billie didn’t give her time to adjust.

her hips slamming forward with enough force to make the bed shake.

her cock fucking her deep, her fingers digging into nessa’s thighs.

“fuck,” nessa gasped, her nails scraping against the sheets

her body arching off the bed as billie set a brutal pace, her thrusts erratic, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “fuck, billie—”

“shut up,” billie snarled, her hand coming down hard on nessa’s ass.

the sharp smack echoing through the room. “you don’t get to talk. you don’t get to fucking think. you just take what i give you.”

nessa whimpered, her cunt clenching around billie’s cock, her body strung tight with pleasure.

she could feel the orgasm building, coiling in her stomach, but billie wasn’t done with her yet.

billie flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips up so her ass was in the air, her face pressed into the mattress.

“you’re gonna fucking scream for me,” billie muttered.

her fingers digging into nessa’s hips as she fucked her harder and deeper.

her cock hitting that spot inside her that made her muffle a scream.

nessa couldn’t hold back anymore.

she came, her body uncontrollably shaking, her cunt fluttering around billie’s cock.

billie followed soon after, her hips stuttering as she came deep inside her, her fingers gripping nessa’s hips hard enough to leave bruises.

for a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.

then billie pulled out, collapsing onto the bed beside nessa, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

nessa could feel billie’s cum dripping down her thighs, her body boneless, her mind hazy with pleasure.

billie smirked, her fingers trailing lazily over nessa’s hip. “i hope i changed your mind.” she murmured, her voice smug.

nessa didn’t answer. she didn’t need to. her body had said enough.

⋆˚࿔

nessa stepped out of the bathroom, her skin still tingling from the hot water.

her body loose and relaxed in a way that made her want to sink into the nearest surface and never move again.

she’d scrubbed every inch of herself clean, but she could still feel the ghost of billie’s hands on her skin.

the phantom pressure of her cock stretching her open.

her thighs were slick—partly from the shower, partly from the way her body hadn’t stopped throbbing since she’d left that bedroom.

⋆˚࿔

after nessa dressed back up, she opened the door to notice her stylist was waiting.

her eyebrows raised as she took in nessa’s freshly washed face.

the smudged remnants of her makeup clinging stubbornly to her lashes.

“you good?” she asked, tilting her head. “you look… different.”

nessa blinked, forcing a soft, practiced smile.

“oh, yeah,” she lied, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

“i had an emotional session talking to billie. we, uh… connected…. deeply.” the words tasted like a lie even as they left her mouth.

but she couldn’t stop the way her pulse jumped at the memory.

billie’s fingers in her hair, billie’s teeth on her neck, billie’s voice rough in her ear.

the stylist’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but she didn’t press anything.

she definitely heard everything.

“right,” she drawled, nodding slowly.

“well, glad you two… worked it out.” she turned on her heel, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“see you around, nessa.”

nessa exhaled sharply once she was alone.

her fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. she could still smell billie’s scent on her skin, could still feel the ache between her thighs. she needed to get out of there.

⋆˚࿔

the uber ride home was a blur.

nessa stared out the window, her mind replaying every second of what had happened in that bedroom.

the way billie had looked at her, the way she’d touched her, the way she’d fucking ruined her.

her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out with trembling fingers.

a text from an unknown number.

: u forgot something.

attached was a photo of her black panties, the lace torn, the fabric still damp.

nessa’s breath caught in her throat.

another message popped up.

: come get them. or don’t. i’ll keep them as a souvenir.

nessa’s stomach twisted, heat pooling low in her belly.

she didn’t reply. she didn’t need to. billie already knew she’d be back.

[minasw0rld]

NEEEEDDD A PART 2

[minasw0rld]

𝒶𝒻𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒽ℴ𝓌

-fluff

warnings: none! just very short fluff

a/n: sooo this is the fluff version but while writing it I felt the urge to turn this into a smut version so let me know if I should post one… also disclaimer: I know you can’t just go to sleep after washing curly hair but lets just ignore that 😬

You and Manon have been dating for a few months now, but you’ve never had the chance to see her perform live — so tonight was the night. You’re standing in the front row, wearing your cute outfit and a huge, proud smile on your lips.

You watch every single movement Manon makes, and you can clearly see how you’re the only one she looks at throughout the whole show. Of course, you’ve seen videos of her performances before, but now you can really feel her passion and the dynamic with the group, and it warms your heart to think about how important this is to her.

When the last song is over, you can see the sweat shining on her forehead under the colorful lights. The crowd, of course, applauds and screams, and you can see how every single member enjoys this moment.

After the show, you rush backstage to Manon. Her face immediately lights up when she sees you, and you quickly pull her into a hug.

“You were absolutely amazing, babe.”

She giggles, out of breath, and gently kisses your shoulder before she pulls away.

“Thanks. I’m just really exhausted.”

You nod understandingly, and the two of you quickly find yourselves in her hotel room. Her eyes look heavy and tired, and it makes you grin slightly.

“You wanna take a hot shower?”

She sighs but nods.

You help her get undressed and turn on the shower, waiting for it to reach the perfect temperature. While you wait, you get undressed as well and talk with her about the show.

“I’m really glad everything went well,” she says and chuckles. Not all shows go as planned, but that’s part of her job, and everyone in the group has learned how to deal with that — they handle it like professionals.

“You seemed pretty energetic tonight,” you say while brushing your hair, and she blushes just a bit.

“Maybe I was trying to impress someone.”

The thought of her giving her best just to impress you makes your heart warm — and she definitely did impress you.

“It definitely worked.”

Once the water has a good temperature, you both step under it. The hot water runs down your bodies and makes Manon sigh. Her muscles feel stiff and tense; you can tell by the way she moves.

Your fingers begin to gently massage her shoulders, and she lets out a low moan that makes you grin. You start to kiss her neck and shoulders and wrap your arms around her from behind.

Manon leans completely into you and just enjoys your small kisses. You feel her getting sleepy, and before she can fall asleep under the shower, you quickly shampoo her hair, massaging her scalp with your nails as she leans her head back to give you more access.

“Ugh, I love you,” she groans, making you laugh slightly before you mumble back,

“Love you too.”

She washes her body while you rinse out her shampoo and rub some conditioner into her long curls. You kiss her neck one last time before you both step out of the shower, and you quickly wrap her in a warm towel.

Manon leans against the sink while you get her a fresh pair of underwear and her favorite pajamas.

“You packed my favorite?”

Her face lights up when you hold up the blue pajama set with all the little silly cats on it. The first time you saw her wearing it, you started laughing and told her it matched her vibe. Since then, it’s been her absolute favorite.

She gets into her pajamas before collapsing dramatically onto the bed. You do the same and pull her tightly against you.

Manon nuzzles her face into the crook of your neck, and your legs tangle together in a knot. You pull the blanket over the two of you and kiss the top of her head.

“How are you feeling?” you mumble against her hair.

“Exhausted.”

You smile at her prompt answer and lazily rub circles over her back.

“You killed it tonight.”

She raises her head slightly so you can see her smirk.

“Just because of you.”

Now you’re the one smirking while she rests her forehead back against your collar.

“Good night, babe,” you whisper — and a second later, you can already hear her steady, peaceful breathing, giving away the deep sleep she’s drifted into.

[minasw0rld]

Guys I’m working on a Manon fluff fic!!!! Are we ready?😖😖😖

[bills-lovegirls8]

𝙎𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙠

𝓢𝓾𝓫!𝓑𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮 𝓔𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝔁 𝓕𝓮𝓶!𝓰𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓽 [+18]

AN: HEYYY, this is my first imagine, I've been writing this for days, I wasn't feeling very well these days, so it took me a long time, and I asked a friend for help with some parts, and I've lost count of how many times I've revised this, but I hope you like it 🌷 (This sucks, and it got really big, Please forgive me if there are any mistakes!)

⚠︎ Warning: Explicit language, Sensual scenes, Adult content, Explicit sexual intercourse, Domination/submission, Use of fingers and tongue, Squirt, Teasing, Jealousy, Intense kissing.

Being part of Billie Eilish's team requires more than talent. It requires nerve, rhythm, stamina, and a trained emotional frame to handle the intensity that lives behind the scenes.

You joined the band a little over a year ago. Lead guitarist. Firm posture, few words, serious gaze. With a reserved but not inaccessible style, everyone liked you. Maybe because you don't force anything. Maybe because you act with a calmness that balances the creative chaos of an international tour. Maybe because, deep down, you understand the weight of being there.

Today is just another day of rehearsal for the next show of the tour tonight. The rented studio in Miami, that giant with the high ceiling and the smell of stale coffee. Instruments everywhere, cables on the floor, speakers stacked. Abe fiddling with the synthesizers, Andrew testing a drum fill, Tom tuning the guitar, and Smith dropping an experimental riff just to piss someone off. It worked: Andrew complained.

Books and songs say love happens suddenly. That's a lie. What exists is construction. Brick by brick, detail by detail, something is born. It was like that with you and Billie.

But you would never admit it out loud.

"Okay, one-hour break! I need to eat something!" Finneas shouted from the back, getting up from the production desk.

You placed your guitar on the stand, taking a deep breath. You'd rehearsed "Oxytocin" about ten times, and Billie kept insisting on repeating it. A perfectionist to the core. But today she was strangely... restless.

"Shall we?" Jane appeared at your side, her smile easy as always. Her voice is sweet, caring, the kind of voice that makes any conversation seem intimate. Jane likes touch, hugs, the tight bonds of friendship. And it was no different with you—maybe even a little more so.

She slipped her arm through yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And for both of you, it was.

"I need coffee to survive," you replied, adjusting your black blouse as you grabbed your phone.

Ava, Jane's sister and another backup singer, continued talking with Smith and Andrew in the corner. No one on the team noticed the closeness between the two of you. Everyone knew you were friends from the beginning. Only one person noticed something else where no one else saw anything: Billie.

She was watching.

Always watching.

You and Jane were almost out of the room when you heard:

"Hey!" Billie appeared out of nowhere on the other side, wearing that sweatshirt and her cheeks flushed. "Where are you guys going?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but Jane beat you to it.

"Coffee shop. Nearby. Get some air before heading back into the chaos."

"Can I come with you?" Billie asked quickly, almost anxiously. She took a step toward you. "I promise I won't talk about work."

Jane took a deep breath, her smile fading slightly, and replied.

“Not today, Billie. Y/n and I need to talk about some important things. Kind of… personal. You know?”

Billie blinked slowly.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t deny it. You didn’t explain. You simply followed Jane toward the door. But before you left, you felt her gaze burning into your back—as if you’d just closed a door in her face.

And the truth is, maybe you had.

Billie Eilish, the woman who performed to sold-out arenas, was standing in the middle of the room looking… left out.

♬♬♬

The coffee shop Jane had chosen looked like something out of an indie film: light wood tables, hanging plants, a low Phoebe Bridgers playlist in the background. You always thought it was strange how much she liked this kind of place, too cute for the chaos of life on the road, but eventually, you started to like it too. Maybe because it was one of the rare places where you could breathe without feeling the weight of Billie's fame weighed down on everyone.

You and Jane sat by the window, and she sat up, stretching out in the chair with a dramatic sigh.

"Seriously, I needed to get out of there for a minute before I lost my mind. I love Billie, but today she was impossible," Jane commented, fiddling with the straw in her Frappuccino.

You let out a short laugh. "Billie's always impossible. It just changes the reason."

"And you always know how to handle her," Jane countered, resting her chin on her hands. "By the way... how's it going? You and her?"

Your gaze slowly rises. "'Me and her' what?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "Do you really think I don't notice? The whole world may be blind, but I know you."

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the bench. "Nothing's happening."

"Exactly," she said, pointing at you with her straw. "That's the problem. Nothing's happening because you two are playing this weird emotional game. Looks, giggles, closeness, tension... and silence. Then no one moves."

You were silent for a moment, staring out the window at the street. Outside, everything seemed simple. In here, it wasn't.

"I can't," you said finally. "It wouldn't be professional. I'm here to play. That's all."

Jane took another sip without taking her eyes off you. "Yeah. Sure. You're here 'just to play.' That's why your face changes every time she touches you, right?"

You laughed lightly. "Fuck you, Jane."

She clinked her glass. "I love you too."

Silence fell for a moment, but it was comfortable. You two always had this: a simple, light, effortless friendship.

"You know she misses you when you don't talk to her, right?" Jane commented, without looking up.

You frowned. "What do you mean, 'when I don't talk to her'?"

"You think you're a good escape, but Billie notices," Jane replied. "And when she does, it hurts her."

You stayed quiet. Because you knew it was true.

𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩…

A few blocks away, in a completely different coffee shop—minimalist, quiet, concrete walls—Billie stirred her oat milk cappuccino without actually drinking it. Finneas sat across from her with a half-eaten vegan sandwich.

“Are you going to talk, or are you going to treat the cappuccino like it’s going to solve your problems?” he asked, without looking up from his phone.

“Nothing,” Billie replied, too quickly.

Finneas raised an eyebrow, taking a deep breath, and dropping the phone on the table.

“When you say ‘nothing’ like that, it means ‘something huge and emotionally destructive that I’m pretending doesn’t exist.’ So just say it.”

Billie crossed her arms, staring at the table, and finally spoke.

“Do you think I’m… hard to like?”

Finneas blinked. “Wow. Okay. I didn’t expect to start the afternoon with such an existential bombshell.”

“I’m serious.”

He leaned forward. “Okay. What happened?”

She bit her lower lip hesitantly and said, “Y/n and Jane left together after rehearsal. Just the two of them. She didn’t even… say anything to me. Didn’t even ask if I wanted to go. Nothing.”

Finneas stared at his sister for three seconds before teasing.

“Oh my God… you’re jealous.”

“NO!” Billie snapped back too quickly.

Finneas just sipped his coffee slowly, staring at his sister.

“Okay. I just didn’t think you were that type.”

“What type?”

“The type who’s madly in love and can’t admit it.”

Billie froze. The atmosphere grew heavy.

“I’m not in love, Finneas.”

"Of course. And I'm not your brother."

♬♬♬

"There's no point in hiding it, Y/n." Jane crossed her arms and stared at you in that 'I know your whole life and I can expose it all in 0.2 seconds' way. "Everyone's already noticed."

"Noticed what?" You frowned, sipping your coffee as if it were a shield against emotions.

"You and Billie."

You choked, coughing and staring at Jane, who was laughing at you.

"ME AND BIL—what???" Your eyes widened. "Are you crazy?"

Jane rolled her eyes, laughing at you.

"Okay, actress. Next time, get an Oscar for drama. Remember the last vlog from the European tour that Billie posted?"

You blinked. Of course you remember. How could you forget? That whole chaotic backstage shoot, you laughing together, her leaning on your shoulder, you combing her hair in a van at three in the morning, but that was between friends. Just friends. Right?

Jane opened her phone, searching for the video.

"The fans ate that video alive," she continued. "Want to see what they were saying? Check this out."

She turned the screen to you.

"Is it just me, or have Billie and the guitarist been flirting since Paris?"

"Y/n looks at Billie like she's written her name in a diary 87 times."

"I study chemistry, but the most tension I've ever seen is between these two."

"Billie smiling at Y/n = dopamine rush."

"I support this couple even if they only exist in my head 🫶"

You felt your soul slowly leaving your body.

"That's just fandom. They see crumbs even in impossible things," you shrug. "They thought I was with Abe last week. Last week I was dating a keyboard, apparently."

Jane laughed, giving you that look that said, 'You can't fool me.'

"Yeah, but with Abe, you don't look like the protagonist of an A24 lesbian movie."

"I DON'T look at Billie like that."

"Look," she replied quickly. "Everyone sees it, you just deny it to yourselves."

You stayed quiet. Because denying it any more would be embarrassing.

Jane finished her coffee and stood up.

"Let's go, before Finneas texts you asking if someone died. Because he always thinks someone died when you take more than 10 minutes."

𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙞𝙤𝙩…

When you re-entered the studio, the mood wasn't exactly... light.

Billie was sitting on the stool near the microphone, fiddling with her rings, her face grim. Short nails tapping against the silver. She had no patience.

She looked in your direction. Or rather: she looked at Jane. Then at you. And turned her face away, as if she didn't care. Pure acting. 4/10 for subtlety.

"Look, the wives are here," Finneas announced loudly, like a comedian. "Were they settling a divorce or buying an apartment together?"

You closed your eyes for a second.

"Fuck you, Finneas."

"Language!" He said, placing his hand on his chest, feigning offense. "Healthy work environment!"

Jane started laughing, and so did Andrew. Ava just shook her head, thinking, "Oh my God, again." Billie remained... quiet.

The atmosphere was heavy.

"Let's work?" you said, going straight to your guitar. Professionalism above all else. Including uncontrolled emotions and possibly jealous vocalists.

Rehearsal began, "The Diner" blasting through the studio. Abe on synthesizers, Tom on acoustic guitar, Andrew shredding the drums as always. You launched into the riff with force, timing everything perfectly. Impeccable technique. Controlled breathing.

There was only one problem.

Every time you looked at Billie... she was already looking.

And she didn't look away.

It's a silent war. An exchange of glances that shouldn't say anything, but screams something no one understands except the two of you.

And worse, it seems she was even more energetic on stage after the coffee that wasn't with her.

Great. Now you have a passive-aggressive jealous Billie Eilish to deal with.

Perfect. Except, no.

♬♬♬

The rehearsal ended after a few more songs from the setlist were run through, leaving a trail of tired laughter, cables on the floor, and empty water bottles. You turned off your amp and stretched your back, feeling your muscles complain under the weight of the guitar. Everyone scattered around the studio: Andrew arguing with Smith about the best rock album of all time, Ava and Jane fighting over a piece of gum, Finneas playing three random keys on the piano as if composing the soundtrack to his own madness.

You went to the table in the corner to get your water bottle.

And so did she.

Billie stopped on the other side of the table the second you reached out. You both reached for the water together. When your fingers accidentally touched hers, you felt a shock. Or maybe it was just your paranoia. Billie pretended not to notice. But her eyes… gave it all away.

“If I’d known you were coming back,” Billie said, opening the bottle without looking at you, “I would have sent for you with a red carpet.”

“I didn’t think you’d miss me,” you replied, also not looking at her directly.

“I didn’t,” she said quickly. “I just thought it was… curious.”

You turned and drank your water slowly. Too hot for this.

“Curious what?”

Billie looked at you. That heavy, direct look that always seemed to say more than it should.

“That you left without saying anything.” She took a sip of water. “And came back without saying anything, too.”

“Did you want me to tell you where I was going?” You arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to put a tracker on my phone and my bank password, too?”

She snickered. Sarcastic. But the tension between you was growing too quickly.

“It was just weird,” she insisted, setting the bottle down on the table. “You and Jane… were really close today.”

“We’re friends.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What was that ‘uh-huh’?”

“Nothing,” she replied, but she was lying through her teeth. “It’s just that you were kind of… attached, right?”

“Are you jealous?” you teased, without even thinking.

Her eyes flashed with a dangerous challenge.

“Not at all.” Billie crossed her arms. “I just thought it was funny.”

“Funny what?”

“That you never have time for anything, but you do have time to hang out with her.”

That hit home. Right on target. You took a deep breath and replied quietly:

“You never ask if I have time either.”

Billie’s eyes locked with yours, and for a second the silence seemed to explode. It was a spark. A fire waiting to start.

“Hey!” Jane appeared like a smiling meteor between the two of you, oblivious to the tension in the air. “Y/n, later, after the show, don’t forget about me, okay?”

“About what?” you asked, surprised by the change of subject.

“Lesson, remember?” Jane blinked. “You promised you’d teach me some guitar chords. Just a little. I don’t want to be a rockstar yet, calm down.”

“Lesson?” Billie repeated, with that light tone that clearly meant, ‘What the hell?’

“Yes, lesson,” Jane replied, too excited. “If you want to come along, Billie, you’re invited.”

“Oh, thanks, but…” Billie smiled fakely. “I don’t like to get in the way.”

Jane didn’t notice anything and had already left, pulled along by Ava, who wanted to show her a bizarre message she’d received.

You and Billie were left there, alone.

And it was impossible to ignore now: she was jealous. Really.

Billie licked her lips, as if carefully choosing her next attack.

“Private lessons, then.”

“Yeah. Is there a problem?”

“None.” She shrugged. “I just thought it was cool to know you offer extra benefits to certain people on the team.”

You tried to hide the smile that threatened to appear.

“Billie…”

“Don’t worry.” She stared at you with a mix of defiance and something much more dangerous. “I don’t care.”

But her eyes said: I fucking care.

♬♬♬

𝙆𝙖𝙨𝙚𝙮𝙖 𝘾𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝘽𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙚

The show had been perfect chaos, the kind that makes your body tremble and your soul electric. An hour and a half of sweat, screams, lights, and music burning in your chest. The Miami audience had swallowed every second as if it were the last night of their lives. Billie set the stage on fire, and you kept the entire base on their feet with your guitar, steady, dense, hypnotizing.

It was a hot show. In every sense.

Billie was completely dedicated. Her whole body, her whole heart, her whole gaze. She sought you out more often than she should have, provoked you more than necessary, and you responded, of course. Without words. With music. There was fire in the air. Anyone could feel it. Only no one knew where it was coming from.

As soon as you left the stage, the entire crew erupted in a chorus of relief and euphoria. They clapped, hugged, and shouted "AWESOME SHOW!" as always. You dropped your guitar and pulled the hair tie from your hair, letting it fall to your shoulders, still panting. It was hot in there. So hot.

"YES!" Andrew shouted, sweat dripping down his shirt. "This tour is going to kill us, but we'll be smiling!"

You laughed.

"At least we'll die making art," you replied sarcastically.

Jane appeared beside you, giggling and with a towel thrown over her shoulder.

"So, rockstar," she patted your arm, "have you remembered you're human, or do you want to keep pretending you never feel anything?"

"Don't start," you said, with that "screw you" smile.

"I'm just getting started," she winked. “Today, after the hotel. My room, two in the morning. Guitar lesson, remember?”

You nodded. You’d completely forgotten about that, but you weren’t going to admit it.

“Okay. Two in the morning. I’ll bring the guitar.”

Jane smiled contentedly. But before she could say anything else, you could feel it. The air shifted. Someone came close.

“What kind of chords are you guys practicing at two in the morning?”

Billie.

She appeared out of nowhere, still bearing the marks of the show. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes dangerously bright, her hair messy the way it only appears after the stage. The oversized T-shirt and shorts clinging to her uniformed, dangerously shiny thighs gave her that casual post-show look that was, frankly, criminal.

She crossed her arms and stood between you and Jane, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax, Bills, it’s not what you think.” Jane laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “I just want to learn how to play guitar.”

“I know that, you guys told me at rehearsal, but at two in the morning?” Billie asked humorlessly.

“That’s when inspiration strikes.” Jane blinked.

Billie ignored her answer and turned to you.

“You’re going in the van with us, right?”

Before you could respond, Jane sensed the mood and backed away slowly.

“Okay, I’ll get my things. See you in the van.”

She disappeared down the hallway, and the silence between you and Billie grew heavy. Billie looked you up and down. First, your hair, loose and messy in a way that made your body tingle, then your hands, still calloused from the guitar and a small cut on one finger, then your lips. She took a deep breath, almost irritated.

“Jane? Seriously?” She let out, with a soft mockery that only she could muster.

"She just wants to learn how to play the guitar," you replied simply.

"Oh, sure. Guitar." Billie laughed incredulously. "I know that, but it's like you don't have all day tomorrow for that. It has to be this morning."

"What's your problem?"

"Nothing, Y/n. I just find it curious how you have time for the right people."

You took a deep breath, already smiling. "Are you jealous again, Billie?"

She leaned a little closer. Your heart leaped in your chest just from the proximity.

"Of Jane?" Billie laughed softly, but her eyes weren't smiling. "Spare me."

"Then why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Taking it out on me."

"Oh, I never take it out on you."

"Never?" You said sarcastically.

She gave a half smile, tilting her head. "Only when you deserve it."

Literal spark.

And before you could respond, Abe shouted from the other side:

"THE VAN'S HERE! Let's go to the hotel!"

Everyone started walking. You and Billie walked together down the aisle. When you got into the big van, the seats were full: Andrew was laughing at some lame joke Smith made, Tom was trying to steal Ava's headphones, Finneas had an energy drink in his hand and looked like he was ready for another show.

You got in. Billie sat right next to you. On purpose.

"Everyone ready?" the driver asked.

"Before picture!" Billie declared, holding up her phone.

And no one dared contradict her.

She took several: one serious, one chaotic, one with everyone making faces. Andrew gave the peace sign, Smith did a hang loose, Tom pretended to sleep, Ava gave the middle finger, Jane made a little heart (obviously), Finneas pointed to the energy drink he was drinking like it was a trophy. Even the driver appeared smiling in the rearview mirror.

And then, of course: Billie turned the camera on the two of you. Very slowly. Very close. Her shoulder brushed against yours. She smiled. You tried to hide anything on your face.

Click.

"Perfect," she murmured. No one heard. Except you.

She opened Instagram right then and there and posted. Without even thinking. Without even telling you.

@billieeilish

Caption: Tonight

One word. A bombshell.

The photo was the two of you. Together. Lit by the van's light, post-show, real, too intimate.

The comments exploded in seconds:

"MY MOMS"

"Definitely chemistry there"

"Billie's look, wanting to eat Y/n alive"

"Confirm this relationship already"

And so it went, thousands of them, most talking about the same thing: You and Billie.

♬♬♬

The walk to the hotel was filled with laughter, the buzz of messages popping up in the tour group, and everyone still buzzing with adrenaline from the show. When you arrived in the crowded lobby, it was the usual chaos: backpacks, cases, laughter, people fighting over room cards, Abe making jokes with everyone, Ava and Jane quietly singing a random 2000s song like they'd just left a bad karaoke bar.

"Who's sharing with whom?" Smith asked, yawning as he grabbed his key.

"I'll stay with you tonight," Tom warned.

"Okay," Smith shrugged.

You'd already been paired with Abe. Again. And, of course, he loved using it to tease you.

"Oh, look, my favorite guitarist," he said dramatically when you received your key next to him. "Another night sharing a room with the walking hole in the hotel fridge."

"Stop being so dramatic, Abe," you laughed. "It's like I steal all the food from the minibar."

"It is?" He glared at you accusingly. "Last week you ate FOUR Milka chocolates and said it was 'Air Condensation.' What's that, Y/n? An Einstein theory?"

"Grow up, man."

"Grow up, you little dairy criminal."

You took a deep breath and tried your best not to laugh out loud. Abe always did that. He made you laugh unintentionally.

When the elevator opened, it became a mess. Everyone talking at once, trying to get in together, the door dinging, Finneas yelling, "Guys, please, I beg you, don't pile up, it's like the subway, for God's sake!"

You got in with the others, but you felt Billie walk behind you, slowly, almost pressing her body against yours. Her breath brushed your neck.

“Y/n,” she whispered in your ear, her voice husky from the post-show. “Good luck with your… productive night.”

Before you could answer, she passed by, her shoulder brushing yours deliberately, and stepped into the elevator next door, alone. Without sharing with anyone. Without explaining anything. Just Billie being Billie.

You stood there, frozen for a second, feeling electricity run through your arms. What the hell was that?

“You look pale,” Abe commented beside you, snapping his gum irritably. “Right. What did Billie tell you? And why am I sure it was illegal in 23 countries?”

“Shut up, Abe.”

He laughed, satisfied, as if he’d just solved a mystery.

…

The hotel room was just like the others you’d seen on the tour: an overly comfortable bed, brown carpet, thick curtains, stuffy silence, and the smell of overpowering air conditioning. Abe dropped his things halfway and fell onto the bed as if shot.

"I'm just going to take a quick nap. Like... thirty minutes. If I snore too loud, it'll kill me," he muttered, already passing out.

You showered, put on sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. You dried your hair quickly, grabbed the guitar that was leaning against the wall, and set it aside, already thinking about that "lesson" with Jane.

That's when your phone vibrated. It was Jane.

Jane 🐣 → 11:49 PM

Lovee, I can't do it today 😩

Ava and I promised to finish a series together and she almost cried when I told her I was going to skip it 💀💀💀

Forgive meeee! Can we reschedule tomorrow??

You typed:

You → 11:50 PM

Relax, seriously. Go for it.

Show over. Class canceled. Shower taken. Abe dead in bed. What were you going to do now?

Another notification popped up.

And the name that appeared made her heart skip a beat.

Billie.

Billie 🦕 → 11:51 PM

Heyyyyy 🤭

You frowned. What kind of message was that?

You → 11:52 PM

Hi?

She replied quickly.

Billie 🦕 → 11:52 PM

Are you still going to teach Jane?

You stared at the screen for a few seconds. Did Billie already know the class had been canceled? Okay, weird.

You → 11:53 PM

No. Plans changed.

It took her a full minute to respond. And you realized you were holding your breath. Ridiculous.

Then another message arrived.

Billie 🦕 → 11:54 PM

So come watch a movie with me 🍿👀

You blinked twice. Alone with Billie? In her room?

Before replying, another message:

Billie 🦕 → 11:54 PM

I'm on 1406

Another one:

Billie 🦕 → 11:55 PM

I promise I won't bite 🙂

And the last one:

Billie 🦕 → 11:55 PM

Unless you want me to 😉

You slowly put your phone down.

"I'm going out for a second," you warned, already grabbing your phone, trying to sound casual.

Abe didn't even open his eyes.

"Go on," he grumbled. "Just don't come back with a demon chasing you. I don't have the energy for an exorcism today."

You almost laughed, almost answered. But the elevator was already in front of you, and your heart was racing as if you were about to commit a crime.

In the hallway on the 14th floor, you stopped in front of door 1406.

You took a deep breath.

You knocked.

And on the other side, Billie opened the door with a slow, dangerous smile.

"Hi, guitarist," she said, leaning against the door as if she were the master of her fate. "Come in.”

You wanted to back away, curse her, or turn away, but you couldn't. Before you knew it, you were already being pulled into the room.

The door closed behind you with a soft click that sounded like thunder in the silence of the room. The air conditioning hummed, but it was the pounding in your ears that you really heard.

Billie's room was a reflection of herself, messy yet organized. Expensive, baggy clothes were thrown over an armchair, a laptop open on the king-size bed, and an assortment of half-empty water bottles sat on the nightstand. The light was dim, coming only from a lamp in the corner, casting dancing shadows that seemed to magnify every movement.

And Billie... Oh, Billie.

She's standing a step away from you, wearing only short shorts and a black sports bra. Her pale skin is a canvas of tattoos. Her back, half turned to you, reveals that large, intricate design that runs down her entire spine. When she turns around, your gaze lingers on the dragon tattoo that runs up her side, from her hip. It's big, it's warm, it's beautiful.

"Don't worry," she says, her voice husky, low, just for you to hear. "I won't bite you. Not yet."

She gives a small, lopsided smile and walks over to the bed. When she bends down to pick up the remote, you try not to look at the generous curve of her breasts; they look soft, and they seem to be calling to you. Billie is so hot.

"So," she begins, tossing the remote on the bed. "Class canceled, huh? Too bad." Her tone is playful, but there's a grain of truth there.

"Stop it, Billie," you reply, crossing your arms. "What do you really want?"

"I told you. To watch a movie." She picks up a bucket of popcorn you hadn't even noticed. "Sit down."

It's an order, not an invitation. And you, like a fool, sit on the edge of the bed, still far away. She's watching you like a hunter watches his prey.

Billie sits next to you. Not on the other side. Close. So close that her leg almost touches yours. The heat from her body is real. She grabs the remote and starts playing movies.

"What do you want to see?" she asks, her fingers, which would usually be covered in rings, gliding over the keys of the remote.

"You choose." Her voice is hoarse than it should be.

She stops at 'The Witch.' "That one. It's scary and sad." She looks at you, a glint in her eye. "Can you handle it?"

"I can handle you bugging me at rehearsal, Billie. A movie is a piece of cake."

She gives a genuine laugh, which makes your chest hurt in a good way. "Fair enough."

She presses play and flops down on the cushions, pulling the popcorn onto her lap. The movie begins, dark and heavy.

The first twenty minutes pass in a heavy silence. You try to pay attention to the screen, but it's impossible. Every time she moves to get the popcorn, her arm brushes against yours. Every time she giggles quietly at something, the sound vibrates in the air between you.

In a tense scene, your hands meet in the popcorn bucket.

The touch is quick, but the sensation lingers, burning inside. You pull your hand back as if you'd touched fire.

Billie doesn't pull away. She just turns her head and stares at you. The light from the TV shines in her eyes.

"You're shaking," she whispers.

"It's the movie. It's scary."

"Bullshit," she says simply. She takes the popcorn from her lap and turns her entire body to face you, crossing one leg. The movement makes her shorts ride up a little, revealing more of the dragon tattoo, right there, so close. "You're not scared of the movie, Y/n. You're scared of me."

"I'm not—"

"You are," she cuts in, soft but firm. "You've been avoiding me ever since the tour got serious. Ever since... something changed."

She reaches out and takes your hand from the mattress. Her fingers, soft, manicured, slowly run over your knuckles, over the calluses on the guitar. The fairies tattooed on her hand seem to dance.

"These hands," she whispers, "are the only ones that calm the chaos in my head. You know that?"

You wouldn't even imagine what she was thinking with her hands.

"Billie, please..." You pull your hand away, but she holds on tightly.

"No. Not today. Today you listen to me." Her gaze is serious, no joke. Just truth. "I'm a mess, Y/n. I'm intense, I'm perfectly annoying, I'm jealous of everything—and today, when I saw you looking at Jane, it was like a knife in the chest."

"She's my friend! That's all!"

"I know!" she almost screams, full of frustration. "In my head, I know! But here," she takes your hand and presses it against her chest, right over her heart, her skin warm, her heart beating wildly beneath your hand, "here it doesn't matter. Here it only matters that you were dating her and not me. Here it only matters that you smile at her in a way that... that I want to be just mine."

Your hand burns against her skin. Each beat of her heart is a scream. You pull your hand away again, the professional part of you screaming that this is wrong.

"We can't, Billie," you whisper, your voice shaking. "It's wrong. It's... it's unprofessional. I'm your guitarist. You're... you're Billie Eilish, and my boss."

She lets out a sound that's half laughter, half despair. "Unprofessional? Is that what worries you?" She leans in, her face now a hand's breadth from yours. "I spend all day being 'Billie Eilish.' Here, now, with you, I don't want to be her. I just want to be the girl who's completely in love with your beautiful, stubborn guitarist."

The confession hangs in the air between you, heavy and sweet. You feel yourself gasping for air.

"What...?" you manage breathlessly.

"You heard," she says, her eyes roaming your face. "I'm in love with you. Probably ever since that day you fixed the pedal that no one would fix and looked at me like I was an idiot for breaking it. It was the first time someone treated me like... a normal person. Not a star. Just a person."

She lets go of your hand, leaning in slightly, but only to place both hands on your face, her thumbs caressing your cheeks. The 'Hard & Soft' tattoo on her hip becomes much more visible, and you wonder how she's both at once.

"And all this dancing," she continues, her voice a silken thread, "this jealousy, these looks... it's driving me crazy. Because I see how you look at me, Y/n. It's the same way I look at you. Like I'm the only person in the world."

She's right. Absolutely right. You're trapped by the truth you've been carrying for months.

"Billie..." your whisper is a weak protest.

"Stop thinking," she urges softly. "For a second, just stop."

And then, she closes the distance.

The first touch is just a pressure, her lips on yours. They're softer than you imagined. A hesitant touch that stops time. You feel her lip gloss, her lip trembling slightly.

And then, the world falls apart.

A low moan escapes her throat, and she deepens the kiss. Her hand moves from your cheek to the nape of your neck, her fingers burying themselves in your hair, pulling you closer with desperate urgency. Her other hand runs down your arm, leaving a trail of fire on your skin, and rests on your waist, pulling your body against hers.

And you... you let yourself break.

Your arms wrap around her waist, pulling her even closer. One hand comes up and rests in her hair, your fingers lost in her dark, long, soft hair. When her tongue brushes your lips, begging for entrance, you let her go with a sigh that's almost a cry.

It's a kiss of pent-up hunger, of months of tension. Her tongue explores your mouth with desire and care, as if tasting you, taking possession. Your lips move in rhythm with hers, a music only the two of you know. You taste the salty taste of tears, mixed with her fresh breath and the taste that is only hers.

She shifts, pushing you back against the pillows without letting go of your mouth. Her body lies on top of yours, a delicious, crushing weight. Your legs curl around each other, and you feel every curve of her body against yours. The hand that was on your waist slips under your shirt, her warm palm finding the skin of your back. The touch makes you shiver, and a moan of yours fades into her mouth.

The sound of her heavy breathing and the soft moans she lets out is the only music that matters. The feel of her skin under your hands, of the tattoos you feel like light textures under your fingers, is addictive. Shit, you need to fuck her.

The kiss is unhurried. It's a slow exploration. She moves down to your chin, leaving wet kisses and light bites down to your neck, before returning to your mouth, as if she can't bear to be away. Her tongue plays with yours in an ancient dance, and you respond with the same strength, your hands gripping her hips, pulling her toward you, eliciting a low, satisfied moan from her mouth.

She finally pulls away, just enough to breathe.

Your faces are pressed together, your breathing heavy and mingled. Her lips are swollen and shiny, her eyes, dark with desire, search yours with a silent question.

You don't say anything. You don't need to. Instead, you pull her head back down, pressing your mouth against hers again. The kiss is wet, sloppy, shameless. Your tongues curl and move with a desire that leaves your mouth full of saliva, a mingled taste of both of you that is intense and dirty. You felt the heat of her breath, the low, wet sound of movement, and the saliva dripping from the corner of your mouth. It's disgusting, it's messy, and it's the best thing you've ever felt, and so has she.

In a surprising move, you reversed positions. Your hands grip Billie's shoulders with a force that makes her eyes widen, and in an instant, you're on top, pressing your body against hers on the bed. The shock in her eyes lasts a split second before being replaced by a gleam of pure surprise and... excitement.

"Wait, Y/n, I—" she tries to say, panting, trying to regain control.

But you don't give her a chance. You capture her wrists and pin them to the bed above her head, holding them with one hand. Your other hand trailed down her body, not with a caress, but with possession. Your fingers traced the outline of the dragon tattooed on her hip, feeling the muscles in her stomach contract beneath your touch.

"Enough," you whispered, your voice a low, husky growl near her ear. "No more games, Billie. You've teased me enough. Now it's my turn."

And you began. Your mouth found her neck, but it wasn't a gentle kiss. It was light, sucking bites that you knew would leave bruises, your marks. She arched, a long, raspy moan ripping from her throat. Your free hand gripped Billie's waist, your fingers digging into the soft flesh, pulling her closer to you as your mouth moved lower, kissing and nibbling the skin exposed by her bra.

"Y/n... stop... like this I... I can't think!" she cried, her fingers writhing against your hand still holding her wrists.

"Good," you replied, your tongue finding her marked collarbone, sucking, seeing red marks immediately appear, tasting the salty skin. "Don't think. Just feel."

Your hand slid down her body, past her waist, until it found the hem of her sports bra. With a swift movement, you pulled the fabric up, exposing her breasts. The breath was knocked completely from her lungs.

They're large, heavy, perfect. The skin is so pale it almost glows in the dark room, and the nipples, already hard and erect, are a dark, irresistible pink.

Billie arched her back involuntarily, a breathless "ah!" escaping her lips as the cool air, or maybe just the sight of you, touched her sensitive skin.

You didn't wait. You didn't have the patience for this anymore. You lowered your head and covered one breast with your mouth, your tongue enveloping the nipple in one go, sucking on the hard, pink tip, sucking hard and nibbling, leaving it covered in your saliva.

Billie screamed. It wasn't a moan, it was a high-pitched, genuine scream that echoed through the room. Her hands flew to your head, burying her fingers in your hair, but not to pull, but to hold you there, pinned to her.

"Holy God! Y/n! You're sensitive!" she screamed, her voice breaking.

You didn't stop. You sucked, licked, bit lightly, and each movement was met with a louder, more uncontrolled moan from her. You continued sucking, now switching nipples, capturing the other with your mouth. She moaned louder, it was sensitive, but it felt so good. You took her pink nipple between your teeth, sucking and biting. She pulled your hair, forcing your head deeper into her chest, suffocating you. Honestly, you were in heaven, and it was just the beginning. Billie was writhing beneath you, a festival of sounds. She moans, cries, begs your name, and curses between moans.

You show no mercy. Your hand closes in a firm, hard slap on the soft flesh of her breast, and the wet sound is drowned out by the loud, hoarse moan that escapes Billie's throat. "Again!" she begs, her eyes glazed. "Please, Y/n, more!"

You obey, slapping her again, a little harder, leaving her pale skin streaked with red. She arches her back, gasping, and then your own hands come up. She grips her breasts tightly, her fingers digging into the flesh, and pinches her already sensitive nipples between her thumb and forefinger, twisting with an intensity that makes you hold your breath.

"Oh... like that..." she moans, her voice choked, her face completely lost in pleasure and pain. "Don't stop... use me... please."

You bend down and capture one nipple between your teeth, nibbling and pulling lightly as your hand continues to massage and squeeze the other breast with a possession that makes her tremble.

The damage to Billie's breasts was complete. Her pale skin was streaked with red, her nipples so swollen and sensitive that she shivered just from the air hitting them. A fine sweat covered her body, and her breathing was a panting chaos.

You don't stop there. Your mouth descends, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her stomach. You stop at the dragon tattoo, running your tongue slowly over the outline of the black scales. Billie moans, her hips rising involuntarily. "Please…" she begs, but you take your time.

Your tongue finds her belly button piercing—a small diamond that catches the dim light of the room. You play with it, swirling your tongue around the cool metal, and then tug at the clasp with your teeth, gently.

"This is torture," she cries, her fingers digging into your hair, not to pull you in, but to keep you there, close.

You laugh softly against the warm skin of her stomach. "I told you you'd beg.”

Your mouth moves lower, kissing the line of her shorts, right where the 'Hard & Soft' tattoo begins. You place your mouth on the fabric and blow hotly.

Billie loses control. "Enough teasing, for God's sake!" Her trembling hands reach for the laces of her shorts, pulling with desperate force. She lifts her hips off the mattress, pushing the fabric down in a sudden movement. And then... wow.

Her black panties are completely soaked, a dark, wet circle marking the fabric, revealing just how aroused she is. The elastic is twisted, tied haphazardly, as if she'd rushed to get dressed. It's the most indecent sight you've ever seen.

You stifle a low moan. You want to bury your face in there immediately, but a perverse part of you wants more. Much more.

Instead of going down, you go up.

Your body crawls back up hers, your mouth trailing over her dragon tattoo, over her sensitive breasts, until it reaches her neck. You whisper in her ear, your breath hot against her sweaty skin.

"Look at the damage you've done... All wet for me." Your hand drops, and you press your palm hard against that heat, through the wet fabric.

Billie screamed, a high-pitched, broken sound. Her body arched, her fingers digging into your arm. "Y/n, I swear... if you don't—"

"If I don't what?" you tease, rubbing your hand in a slow, firm circle, making the fabric of her panties brush against her clit in a way that drives her wild. "You look so beautiful like this, begging."

"Stop teasing!" she moans, her hips moving against your hand, seeking more pressure, more friction, anything.

"Please, I need... I need your mouth. Now."

And then she breaks completely. Her hands grip your face, pulling you into a deep, dirty, desperate kiss, while her hips continue to move in a chaotic rhythm against your hand.

Your hand doesn't stop rubbing her clit through her panties. Through the wet fabric, you feel everything: the heat, the swelling, her body responding to your every movement. Billie turns her head to the side, burying her face in the pillow to muffle her moans, but it's no use. The sounds that come out of her are husky, guttural, animalistic.

"Y/n... for God's sake..." she pleads, her voice trailing off between gasps.

You laugh softly, a laugh of pure defiance. "For God's sake, what, Bills? Speak.”

She can't. Instead, her hand comes down and covers yours, her fingers intertwining with yours with desperate force. She guides your hand, pressing harder against her clit, covered by her soaked panties, demonstrating the frenetic rhythm she needs. It's as if she's drowning and your hand is her only air.

And then you slap her. Hard and firm, right on top of her soaked panties, making her clit sting, deliciously.

Her body jerked against the mattress. A strangled scream, half cry, half ecstasy, tore from her throat. "Again!" she begged, her eyes glazed, unfocused. "Please, again!"

Your hand, still clasped in hers, rubbed harder, and her other hand joined in, delivering another slap to the same spot, followed by a firm pressure of your palm that made her eyes roll back in her head.

"You're so beautiful like this, completely lost because of me," you whisper, as she uses your hand to rub herself, losing what little control she had left. The entire room smells of sex, sweat, and her essence. And you haven't even removed her panties yet.

Without further ado, your fingers found the waistband of those ruined panties.

The fabric was so soaked it almost stuck to her skin when you pulled. A low, wet sound escaped as you pulled them down her thighs, down past her knees, and finally tossed them off the bed.

And then... Oh my.

The sight that opened before you literally took your breath away. It was paradise. A wet, swollen, pulsating, perfectly shaved paradise. Her lips were red, swollen with arousal, and glistened in the dim light of the room, fully exposed, perfectly wet, and open for you. Her scent, intense and sweet, dominated the air around you, a primal perfume that made your mouth water instantly.

Her entrance pulsed, lubrication slowly oozing out, a delicious sight.

You held your breath for a second, your eyes roaming every inch of that image. Billie moaned, a sound of pure shame and need, and tried to close her legs, but her knees were already weak.

"Let me see," you whispered, your voice husky, as your hands spread her legs wider, bringing her knees close to her chest, completely exposed to you. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

The sight was so beautiful it hurt. But you weren't made for meekness now.

Your blood pounded, addicted to the power of having Billie Eilish like this, completely exposed and trembling with need.

The skin on her inner thighs trembled, and a shiver ran through her body as the air hit her sensitive skin.

And then, before she could prepare herself, his hand came up and came down with a quick, sharp slap, right in the middle of that soft, swollen flesh.

The sound was sharp, and Billie's scream was muffled by the pillow. The shock, the pain mixed with pleasure, made her eyes instantly fill with tears.

"Open," you ordered, leaving no room for argument. "Now."

Billie, her lips trembling and her face awash with a mixture of embarrassment and ecstasy, obeyed. Her trembling hands lowered, and her own fingers parted her lower lips, completely exposing her red, throbbing clitoris to you.

Billie's trembling fingers parted even further, opening herself completely to you. Every detail was exposed under the soft light of the room—her swollen, throbbing clitoris, her flushed, moist lips, everything trembling with her rapid breathing.

Seeing Billie like this, completely open and offering herself to you, was the most erotic thing you'd ever seen. Your patience was at an end.

You began stroking her clitoris in tight circles, rubbing that swollen, red bud, collecting the lubrication from the entrance to her pussy, inserting only your fingertips, making her moan softly.

Without a word, you moved your hand and thrust two fingers inside her at once, with a force that took both of your breath away.

"FUCK, Y/N!"

Billie's scream echoed through the room, a hoarse, broken sound of pure shock and pleasure. She was incredibly hot and tight, and so wet that your fingers entered with a wet, messy sound. Her body arched violently off the mattress, her hands gripping the sheets with white-hot force.

You didn't give her a second to adjust. Your fingers began moving in a firm, deep rhythm, the heel of your hand slamming against her clit with each entry. The sensation was pure possession. Every inch of your hand inside her said: you're mine.

"Like this... like this... don't stop, please, don't stop!" Billie screamed, her voice cracking, her hips frantically trying to keep up with the rhythm of your fingers. Her face was flushed, her eyes rolled back, her mouth open in continuous moans. She was completely lost, a whirlwind of sensations.

You leaned over her, your mouth close to her ear. "Do you like this? Do you like how I fill you?" you whispered, your voice husky, as your fingers continued their relentless work.

The only response was a higher-pitched cry, followed by a series of "yes, yes, yes!" punctuated by moans. Your free hand gripped her breast, squeezing the soft flesh, pinching her already sensitive nipple. It was an assault on all her senses, and she loved every second of it.

Her breathing was a chaotic, gasping mess, and you could feel her inner muscles beginning to contract involuntarily around your fingers. She was getting there, and fast. You quickened your pace, your fingers curling inside her to find that spot you knew would send her over the edge.

"Y/n, I'm going... I'm going..." she cried out, her eyes wide, filled with a mix of panic and anticipation.

"Go," you commanded, your eyes fixed on hers. "Come for me, Billie. Now."

That was enough. With a long, shrill scream that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, Billie's body went into violent spasms. Her legs shook uncontrollably, her fingers dug into your arm, and a warm wave enveloped her fingers as she cried out your name, once, twice, three times, until the sound turned into a breathless cry.

She fell back onto the pillows, completely exhausted, her entire body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly, her skin covered in a light sweat.

You finally removed your fingers slowly, bringing them to your mouth, collecting the last of her orgasm, perfect. The room fell silent, only the sound of your heavy breathing filling the air.

Billie opens her eyes, heavy with pleasure, and pulls you into a kiss before you can say anything.

It's a wild, desperate kiss. She can taste herself in his mouth, salty, sweet, intense, and it only drives her wilder. Their tongues meet without hesitation, in a familiar, dirty dance. It's more than passion, it's possession.

Billie moaned into the kiss, making you frown. You lowered your gaze to Billie's pussy, and you understood.

Billie was touching herself, stimulating herself rapidly, circling her swollen clit repeatedly with her fingers.

You moaned at the sight, unable to contain your arousal for this woman. You got on your knees on the bed and quickly grabbed Billie's hips, quickly turning her over. Billie giggled at your gesture and leaned against the bed, getting on all fours for you, looking at you over her shoulder.

You would never forget the sight: Billie on all fours, her swollen pussy dripping wet.

You smiled and moved closer to her body, bringing your hands to her ass and slapping her hard. Billie moaned and pushed her ass back, wanting more of your slaps. You bit your lip and slapped her again, seeing your handprints clearly on her skin.

You kneel behind her, facing her exposed ass, your hands running around her waist, feeling her hot, sweaty skin. She's completely open to you like this, and the sight is breathtaking. You don't wait.

First, your tongue runs down her middle, in a long, slow motion, from the base to her clit. Billie moans loudly into the pillow, her whole body shuddering. You repeat, several times, licking her all over, feeling the intense taste and the growing tremor in her thighs, then you add your fingers. Two fingers slide inside her, finding her still incredibly wet and hot. You move them in a steady rhythm, neither slow nor fast, but deep, while your tongue remains focused on her clit, pressing and circling.

"Like this... please, don't stop..." she begs, her voice muffled by the fabric. Her hips begin to thrust back, trying to find a more intense rhythm against your mouth and hand.

You feel her inner muscles begin to contract, a familiar tightness around your fingers. Your tongue quickens slightly, focusing on that sensitive spot, and your fingers curl inside her, searching for the right spot.

Billie begins to moan nonstop, a continuous, husky sound of pure need. Her back arches even further, and her hands release the pillow to grip the headboard.

"Y/n, I'm going... I'm going to come again...FUCK!" she screams, the warning a mix of warning and plea.

You don't slow down. Instead, your mouth and hand work together, bringing her even closer to the edge, your fingers pounding hard into her pussy, and your mouth on her clit, sucking hard on that sensitive pink bud. And then, with a muffled scream that seems to rip from her throat, Billie's body is wracked with violent spasms. She squirted, a clear, warm liquid running down your fingers and into your mouth as she trembled uncontrollably, her legs weak, her whole body giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. The bed was ruined, puddles of squirt on the sheets, and you didn't stop masturbating her, pounding into her tight entrance even more, making her moan. As you thrust your fingers deeper, more liquid spurted out, with obscene, delicious noises.

Billie collapsed onto her side, a deep, exhausted sigh escaping her lips. Her body was wet with sweat, her limbs heavy. But the fire inside you still wasn't satisfied.

You moved slowly, sliding down again. She moaned a weak protest as you gently but firmly spread her legs. "Y/n... I can't do it anymore... please..."

But you weren't in a hurry. You just wanted to see. Wanted to feel.

And the view was breathtaking. Her pussy was swollen. Her labia were red and full, a dark, moist pink, and her clitoris throbbed visibly, hypersensitive after all. The skin around it was so sensitive that she shivered when the air hit her.

"Shhh," you whispered, your voice incredibly soft. "I just want to admire it."

Your hands gripped her inner thighs, spreading them as wide as possible, exposing everything completely. She tried to close her legs, but she couldn't. Her eyes were closed, her breath still labored.

You then leaned down and placed your lips right at her center, but without pressure. Just a touch of skin against skin, warm and soft. Billie jumped and let out a shaky moan. "Oh my..."

You didn't lick, you didn't suck. You just kissed. You kissed every swollen, sensitive inch, light, lingering kisses. You kissed the inside of her thighs, feeling the muscles tremble beneath your lips. You kissed the outer lips, feeling the pulse racing in them.

Every touch was a shock of pure sensory pleasure for her, so intense it bordered on pain. She whimpered, her fingers digging into your hair, not to pull, but to cling to something.

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered, her voice broken. "This is... it's worse than before."

You smiled against her warm skin. "It's because you're beautiful like this," you murmured, your hot breath making her shiver again. "All open and sensitive for me. All mine."

And then, finally, you gave her a long, slow lick, from beginning to end, without focusing on any specific spot. It was a caress, a possession, a worship. Billie moaned, a long, deep sound, and her body arched against the bed. Seeing her so sensitive gave you an idea. A possessive feeling, wanting to hear her scream your name again. You couldn't take any more of the caress.

You spread her legs wide and plunged your face into her pussy, your mouth and tongue going all in. There was no more gentleness, just pure desire.

Billie screamed as if scared to death. "NO! Y/N, STOP! IT'S TOO SENSITIVE!"

But you didn't stop. Your tongue went straight to her swollen, reddest spot, spreading her clit with your tongue, licking and sucking with relentless force, sucking right in the middle. Your hand held her hip firmly, preventing her from escaping. She began to moan incessantly, a loud, continuous sound, mixed with 'no, no, no' that clearly meant 'yes'. Her body thrashed, but you didn't let go. Your mouth worked relentlessly, sucking and licking, thrusting your tongue deep into her tight, wet hole, making her scream and bite the pillow beside her, the noise coming out of her wet, loud, and dirty. You could hear every movement of your tongue against her.

"Stop... stop, I'm going... I'm going to pee!" she moaned loudly, desperate, her fingers digging into your hair with the force of someone at their limit.

"Squirt, you silly girl, you're going to squirt again," you growled against her skin, panting, over and over. "Let it out. All of it. For me." You inserted three fingers into her soaked entrance, which entered with difficulty. You began to thrust your fingers deep, hitting her G-spot easily, your fingers thrusting with a speed that surprised even yourself.

"Cum for me, Billie, let it all out!"

That was what she needed to hear. With a scream that sounded like the roof of her mouth was splitting, and that you'd probably have a problem with the hotel manager tomorrow, a hot, endless stream came out. This time it was a real, clear squirt that exploded, running down your chin, wetting the entire bed again, dripping onto the floor and the rug beside you. Her body shook violently, a tremor that ran from head to toe, and she moaned your name in a final, hoarse breath before collapsing, completely wet, exhausted, and unconscious.

You lay there, between her legs, panting, your own body tired and your face still wet from hers. The room was silent, only the hum of the air conditioning and your heavy breathing.

After a long minute, Billie turned her head, struggling visibly against the pillow. She couldn't even open her eyes properly, her eyelids heavy.

"I... I want to give you back..." she whispered, her voice so worn and hoarse it was barely audible. She tried to lift an arm, but it fell back onto the mattress, limp.

Your heart melted in that instant. You crawled to her side, lying down facing her on the messy, soaked bed. "Shhh, no," you said, your voice also tired, but soft. You ran your fingertips over her sweaty face, brushing away the strands of hair that stuck to her forehead. "You don't have to reciprocate anything. Just rest."

Practical concern then kicked in. You glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 2:47 a.m. Abe could wake up at any moment to go to the bathroom and notice you weren't in bed.

"I have to go," you whispered, a pain in your chest as you said it. You started to sit up, your muscles complaining. "Abe..."

Before you could get up, Billie's hand, trembling, found yours on the sheet. She opened her eyes, just a crack, and looked at you. Her gaze was exhausted, but it held you in place.

"You're not going to leave me alone after... after everything you did to me," she said, and her voice, though weak, held a hint of defiance. "That would be... that would be very cowardly of you, Y/n."

You stopped, your body suspended mid-stand. She was right. It would be cowardly. You had turned her world upside down, and now you were just going to walk away like you were going back to rehearsal the next day?

"Okay," you relented, your heart beating faster for a completely different reason now. "But we can't sleep in this wet bed. You're going to take it so I can change the sheets."

Billie groaned, closing her eyes again. "I can't get up. I think you broke my legs."

You couldn't help but smile. "You can do it. Let's go."

With an effort, you stood up and then held out your hands to her. Billie looked at your hands as if they were an impossible obstacle, but with a dramatic sigh, she placed her hands in yours and you pulled her up.

She staggered to her feet, and you held her around the waist to keep her from falling. And that's when reality hit you full in the chest.

Billie Eilish was naked. Completely naked, in front of you. Not in the heat of the moment, not in the middle of the mess. But there, under the soft lamplight, her body marked all over, her breasts still reddened by her hands and mouth, her pale skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, her tattoos looking more vivid than ever. The dragon on her hip, the fairies on her hand, the tattoo on her back. She was exhausted, disheveled, and absolutely beautiful. You gasped for a second, just staring.

Billie seemed to notice your gaze and blushed, but didn't try to cover it. A small, tired smile played on her lips. "Can you stop looking at me like I'm a zoo animal and make this bed? It's cold."

You nodded quickly and turned to hide your own flushed face. As she sat in a chair in the corner, naked and watching you with heavy eyes, you began the task of changing the sheets. It was awkward and incredibly domestic. You pulled back the soaked sheets, revealing the mattress protector underneath (thank goodness), and tossed them into a corner in a wet puddle. As you spread the clean sheet, you felt her gaze on you, a steady heat on your back.

"You're good at this," she commented, her voice a little stronger.

"Changing sheets?" you asked, without turning around.

"Taking care of things. Me," she replied simply.

You finished making the bed, placing the clean pillows in place. The bed now felt like a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the war that had raged there minutes before.

"There," you announced.

Billie got up from the armchair and staggered to the bed, falling sideways onto it with a grunt. "I'll never be able to move again," she murmured into the pillow.

"You need to take a shower," you suggested, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She shook her head, her face still buried. "Tomorrow. I'll take two showers tomorrow. I promise. Right now I just want to sleep for a week."

You chuckled softly and lay down next to her, pulling the clean blanket over you both. The scent of laundry detergent was fresh and soothing. Immediately, Billie turned and clung to you, pressing her naked body against your side, burying her face in your neck. She was warm and soft, and a sigh of deep contentment escaped her.

"Better than the blanket," she whispered, and you felt her lips form a smile against your skin. The room was silent for a moment, only the sound of their breathing calming. The adrenaline was wearing off, and a new reality, strange and wonderful, was settling in.

"So..." Billie began, her voice low and thoughtful. "What are we now?"

The question hung in the air. You were quiet for a moment, your hand tracing slow circles on her back, feeling her ribs and the texture of the large tattoo on her spine.

"I don't know," you admitted, speaking the truth. "I think... I think it's you and me. After all this." You paused. "It's scary."

Billie snuggled closer, if that was possible. "I'm scared too," she whispered, barely audible. "But I'm happier than scared."

"Me too," you replied, and it was the purest truth you'd ever spoken.

She lifted her head enough to look you in the eye. Her eyes were heavy, but serious. "The tour... the crew... Finneas..."

"One problem at a time, Bills," you interrupted softly, using the nickname only very close people used. "Now we sleep. We'll figure out the rest tomorrow."

She seemed to consider this and then nodded, burying her head in your shoulder again. "Okay. But you're staying, right? You're not leaving at dawn."

"I'll stay," you promised, kissing the top of her head. Her scent was a mixture of sweat, her shampoo, and something that was simply... Billie.

In less than two minutes, her breathing became deep and regular, her body heavy and relaxed against yours. She had fallen asleep. You lay awake for a few more minutes, listening to her breathing, feeling her comforting weight in your arms. Your mind tried to process the night, the tension, the jealousy, the confession, the hunger, the sweet violence, and now... this peace. That frightening, perfect intimacy.

Finally, exhaustion overcame you too. Your eyes closed, and you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, with Billie Eilish, the pop star, the woman you loved, pressed against you, safe in your arms. The rest of the world, the problems, the tour... all of it could wait until dawn.

AN: SUB BILLIE IS EVERYTHING TO MEE AGHH

[forevrwintrr]

[myst3riousfemme-deactivated2025]

yearning because nobody wants me

[minasw0rld]

do we fw manon fics?

[billzbling]

@billzblings…

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝑤/ 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑒𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ

❝𝐻𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟!! 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐴𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑!!❞

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 - 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘? 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,

Billie was late. Way later than she usually is. 2AM late. Which wouldn't be weird if she hadn't texted me at 9PM saying she'd be home soon, and that she just had some quick “business" to tend to. My phone sat untouched on the coffee table beside me, the last message glowing accusingly. I'd called three times. Straight to voicemail.

"Probably lost track of time or something " I muttered to myself, trying to ignore the knot tightening in my stomach. But Billie wasn't flaky. Not like that. Especially not with me. We'd been roommates since freshman year, inseparable. Well, almost inseparable. There were… gaps. Nights she'd vanish, come back smelling faintly of damp earth and something metallic she'd brush off as spilled gasoline. Times she'd be oddly distant, staring out the window with a chilling stillness. I always chalked it up to her intense personality, her artistic moodiness. Billie Eilish wasn't exactly known for being sunshine and rainbows, even to her best friend.

Tonight felt different. The silence was too thick. The city outside our apartment window felt unnervingly quiet. The usual car driving by and such, but still. I paced the small living room, bare feet padding softly on the worn rug. My silky pajamas felt suddenly inadequate against a creeping chill. Where was she? There’d been a recent series of murders, and the more I thought about it, the closer it seemed to be getting to my friends and I. Billie knows this, why would she stay out late if they hadn’t caught the killer yet?

My gaze drifted towards her bedroom door. It was slightly ajar. Unusual. Billie was fiercely private about her space. A sudden, irrational urge prickled under my skin. Maybe she left a note? Something explaining? Anything to ease this gnawing worry.

I pushed the door open slowly, the hinges whispering. Her room was dim, lit only by the streetlamp glow filtering through the blinds. It smelled like her – vanilla perfume, weed, and something uniquely Billie. Messy, but organized chaos. Clothes piled on a chair, sketchbooks strewn across her desk, makeup scattered near the vanity mirror.

My eyes scanned the familiar clutter, searching for anything out of place. Nothing. Just Billie’s world. I was about to turn and leave, feeling foolish for intruding, when my foot nudged something solid under the edge of her bed. Something heavy.

Curiosity warred with guilt. Don't snoop, Y/n. But the worry won. Kneeling, I reached under the bed frame, fingers brushing cold metal. I pulled it out.

It was a large, sturdy toolbox. Not the kind you'd use for art supplies or fixing a leaky faucet. This was industrial-grade, heavy-duty. The latch was stiff, but it clicked open under my fumbling fingers.

The smell hit me first. Coppery, thick, clinging to the back of my throat. Blood. Old blood. My breath hitched. Inside, nestled amidst wrenches and screwdrivers that looked suspiciously clean, unused, lay something else.

A mask.

Not just any mask. Ghostface. The Ghostface mask. The cheap plastic kind you’d buy at a Halloween store, except… it wasn't cheap plastic. It felt heavier, denser. And it was smeared. Dark, dried streaks marred the white surface around the eye holes and mouth slit. Streaks that looked horrifyingly like…

And the knife. Long, wicked-looking, with a black handle. Resting beside it. Gleaming faintly under the dim light. There were dark flecks dried onto the blade near the hilt.

My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird. The world tilted. The metallic smell intensified, filling my head, making me dizzy. Ghostface. The murders. The late nights. The "business." The chilling stillness. It all crashed together in a horrifying, undeniable avalanche.

Billie. My Billie. The girl who shared her fries with me, who stayed up late watching bad horror movies with me curled under a blanket, whose dry wit made me laugh until I cried… Ghostface.

A choked gasp escaped me. I dropped the mask back into the toolbox like it had burned me, scrambling backwards on my hands and knees, my silk pajamas snagging on the rough carpet. I bumped hard against her desk chair, knocking a sketchbook to the floor. Pages fanned open.

Not sketches. Photos. Newspaper clippings. Printed articles. Faces stared up at me. Victims. Names I recognized from the news feeds. Dates. Locations circled in red marker. And notes. Neat, precise handwriting I knew intimately – Billie's handwriting. Observations. Times. Habits. Weaknesses.

"Target exhibits predictable jogging route…"

"Security camera blind spot confirmed at rear entrance…"

"Subject often leaves balcony door unlocked after midnight…"

My stomach lurched. I clapped a hand over my mouth, bile rising hot and sour. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Billie. Ghostface. Billie is Ghostface.

Outside, the sound of keys coming towards our apartment shattered the suffocating silence.

Panic, pure and icy, flooded my veins. She was back. *Now*. I was in her room. I’d seen… everything. I scrambled frantically, trying to push the toolbox back under the bed with trembling hands, grabbing the fallen sketchbook, shoving it haphazardly onto the desk. The sound of keys rattling outside the apartment door felt deafening. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed in the hallway outside our apartment door. Shoving everything back into its place, I rushed outside of her room and shut the door behind me. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

The lock clicked. The front door swung open.

Billie stood silhouetted against the dim hallway light. Rain glistened in her dark hair, plastering strands to her pale forehead. Her oversized black hoodie was soaked through, clinging to her frame. She looked… tired. But her eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the living room instantly, landing on me.

I stood frozen near her bedroom door, clutching my elbows, trying desperately to look normal. Trying to force air into my lungs. Trying to erase the image of that mask, that knife, those notes from my mind.

"Y/n?" Her voice was low, questioning. Not her usual playful tone, “you alright?” She shut the door behind her, locking it. The sound echoed in the sudden quiet. She shrugged off her soaked hoodie, revealing a black tank top underneath. Water dripped onto the hardwood floor. Her gaze didn't waver from mine.

“N-nothing, I just feel a little sick. Was gonna ask if you had some ibuprofen or something.” I stammered, my voice sounding unnaturally high, brittle. “You’re soaked. Where were you?” The question tumbled out, laced with a tremor I couldn't suppress.

Billie tilted her head slightly, a slow, deliberate movement. Her eyes narrowed, just a fraction. They weren't just tired; they were watchful. Calculating. Like a predator assessing prey. She took a step forward, her wet boots leaving damp prints on the floor. The scent of rain mingled with something else… damp earth? And underneath it, faint but unmistakable, that metallic tang. Blood.

“Out with some friends, ibuprofen you said?” She said it casually, but her gaze flickered past me, towards her bedroom door. Towards the slight gap I hadn't managed to close completely. My heart hammered against my ribs. Could she see the toolbox wasn't quite flush with the bed frame? Did she notice the sketchbook wasn't perfectly aligned on the desk? Billie noticed everything, would she notice this?

“Yeah,” I managed, forcing a weak smile. “Headache. Must be the weather.” I gestured vaguely towards the window. My hands were shaking. I shoved them into the pockets of my pajama pants.

Billie didn't move. Her stillness was unnerving. She just stood there, dripping onto the floor, her dark eyes locked onto mine. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the frantic drumming of my own pulse in my ears and the soft drip of water from her clothes.

Then, slowly, a small, knowing smile touched her lips. “I’ll see if I have any, I might be out.”

She walked past me, heading towards her bedroom door. Her shoulder brushed mine. It wasn't an accident. It was deliberate, possessive. Electric. Terrifying.

My breath hitched. Every instinct screamed run. But my legs felt like lead. I watched, paralyzed, as she pushed her bedroom door fully open and stepped inside. She paused on the threshold, her back to me. Her head tilted slightly, as if listening. Or smelling. Could she smell the fear radiating off me? Could she sense the frantic energy vibrating through my bones?

She disappeared into the gloom of her room. The door didn't close.

I stood rooted to the spot, caught between the impulse to bolt for the front door and the paralyzing fear of what would happen if I did. What if she heard? What if she caught me?

Seconds crawled by. I heard the soft scrape of the toolbox being pulled out from under the bed. The rustle of papers. The faint click of the latch closing again.

Then silence.

She emerged moments later, holding a small bottle of pills. Her expression was unreadable, a mask smoother than the one in the toolbox. She walked towards me, stopping mere inches away. The scent of rain and earth and blood was stronger now, mixed with her vanilla perfume. It was dizzying.

“Hold on, this one’s empty, can you toss it for me? I’ll see if i have any more?” She held out the bottle. It was indeed empty. Her fingers brushed mine as I took it. Her touch was cold, deliberate. Her eyes held mine captive. There was no warmth there now. No trace of the Billie who shared fries. Only a chilling intensity, a predator assessing its next move.

The empty bottle felt like a grenade in my hand. The air crackled with unspoken terror. She knew. She had to know.

Maybe this is my chance to run. Maybe she’s giving me a head start. Or maybe… maybe she’s just savoring it. The hunt. The fear. The betrayal she must feel radiating from me. The silence stretched, thick with unsaid accusations and the phantom scent of blood. Her gaze didn't waver. It pinned me to the spot, dissecting my terror. The empty bottle was a taunt, a test. Did I dare move? Did I dare breathe?

She turned her back to me slowly, “one minute.”

She smiled back at me. Run. Now.

I bolted for the front door. My hand fumbled frantically with the deadbolt, fingers slick with sweat. The lock turned. I yanked the door open, stumbling out into the rain-slicked hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows. Behind me, no sound. No pursuit. Just the heavy silence of the apartment left behind.

I didn't look back. I sprinted down the hallway towards the stairs, heart hammering against my ribs. The elevator was too slow, a death trap. Stairs. Third floor. Two flights down. My bare feet slapped against the cold concrete steps.

Down one flight. The stairwell echoed with my ragged breaths. Down another. Ground floor exit. I pushed the heavy metal door open, bursting out into the alley behind our building. Rain lashed down, instantly soaking my pajamas. The alley stretched ahead, dark, wet asphalt gleaming under a single flickering streetlight. The dumpster loomed to the right, overflowing. Shadows pooled deep against the brick walls. Where? The park. Trees. Hide.

I darted left, making my way through the park towards the walking path that cut through the woods. Rain plastered my hair to my forehead, blinding me. I stumbled over roots and grass, hiding behind a large tree. It’d been way over a minute now. She was probably near. I pressed my back against the rough bark, trying to silence my breathing. Rain drummed on leaves, masking sound. Maybe. Please.

The woods felt immense, dark, swallowing. Every rustle of leaves was her boot. Every drip was her breath. I peered around the trunk, scanning the rain-blurred park entrance. Nothing moved but the downpour. Relief, cold and shaky, washed over me. She hadn't followed. Or… she was waiting. Hunting.

A twig snapped sharply behind me. Left. Not rain. Instinct screamed move. I spun, stumbling deeper into the woods, away from the path, towards thicker brush. Thorns scratched my arms, wet branches slapped my face. I didn't care. Deeper. Darker. Hide. Find cover. A large oak loomed ahead, roots forming a hollow. I scrambled towards it, diving into the damp, earthy space beneath the gnarled roots. Curled tight, knees to chest, I listened. Only rain. Only wind. Only my frantic heart.

Minutes bled into an eternity. The storm raged, but no footsteps came. No chilling whispers. Just the drumming rain and the creak of ancient wood. Exhaustion pulled at me, a heavy weight. Had she given up? Or was she circling? Waiting for me to break cover? The hollow smelled of wet earth and decay. Safe? For now. But Billie didn't hunt like prey. She hunted like a sculptor chiseling marble. Precise. Patient. Relentless. Her scent lingered. My stomach twisted. She was a professional. My stomach twisted. Paranoia clawed at me. The silence was deafening.

Until it wasn’t. A sound cut through it. And not just any sound, it was my song. Billie's voice. Humming my song. The one I always hummed when I was nervous or concentrating. Billie found it cute. She was teasing me. Softly, hauntingly, drifting through the rain-lashed woods.

She’s getting closer. There’s no way out but forward, but there’s a clearing in front of me. She’d see me for sure. I stayed frozen in the hollow, paralyzed. The humming grew louder, weaving through the trees like a ghostly melody. It was coming from… everywhere. Left? Right? Impossible to pinpoint. My song. My fear. Weaponized.

A shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom near a cluster of dripping ferns. Tall, lean, moving with unnatural silence. Billie. Not running. Not frantic. Strolling. Casual. Hands in the pockets of her black jeans, her soaked white t-shirt clinging to her frame. Rain plastered her dark hair flat against her skull. Her head was tilted back slightly, humming my song softly, perfectly. Her dead eyes scanned the trees, the brush, the hollows. Searching. Knowing.

She stopped maybe ten feet from my hiding place. The humming ceased. Silence crashed back, heavier than before. Rain dripped from the oak leaves onto her shoulders. She didn't look directly at my hollow. Not yet. She just stood there, head tilted, listening. Smelling? Her nostrils flared slightly.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Her voice was a low purr, cutting through the drumming rain. It wasn't playful. It was velvet-wrapped steel. Commanding. Absolute. “I know you’re close, Y/n. I can smell your fear.” A pause. A slow, deliberate inhale.

My hand instinctively flew to my mouth, hiding my sob. Oh god. Oh god no. She couldn't know. Not that. Not yet.

Billie took a single, deliberate step and stupidly I ran. I scrambled out of the hollow, slipping on wet leaves, crashing through a thicket of low-hanging branches. Thorns ripped at my silk pajamas, drawing thin lines of fire across my arms and legs. I didn't look back until I felt her tug my hair back with full force. She pulled me back by my hair, pulling me off the ground, my back on her chest. Her arm wrapped around my waist tightly, her other hand gripping a knife to my throat. She leaned down to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "Running was stupid, baby," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "But it was kinda hot." The knife pressed lightly against my throat. "Now," she murmured, her lips brushed my ear lobe, "Did you think you could hide from me?" Her grip tightened on my hair, pulling my head back further, exposing my throat. "I track killers for fun, Y/n. You think some wet woods scare me?" Her laugh was a dark rumble against my spine. "You found my trophies. Saw my work." The knife traced a chilling line down my throat, not breaking skin, but promising it could. "Now... what am I gonna do with you?" She murmured into my ear, sliding the knife up to chin, forcing me to look up. Her eyes were dark pools, devoid of warmth, only predatory hunger. "Such a pretty little spy..."

My breath came in shallow gasps. The cold metal bit into my skin. Tears I couldn't stop running down my face. "Billie..." My voice was a choked whisper. "Please..."

"Please?" Her chuckle vibrated against my back. "Please what, Y/n? Please don't gut you?" She takes a few steps back before slamming me into a tree, knife still pointed at me. She’s got the mask on her head without it being pulled over her face. She leaned in close, her lips inches from mine. "You saw everything. My notes. My tools. My trophies. You know what I am." Her free hand came up, fingers tracing the line of my jaw, surprisingly gentle, terrifyingly intimate. "And yet... you beg for mercy?” She tilted her head, studying my face. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” She murmured, her thumb brushing my bottom lip. “And mine.” Her eyes darkened. “You shouldn’t have run.” She leaned in, her lips hovering over mine. “But I like it when my prey fights back.” She whispered, her breath mingling with mine. “Makes the catch sweeter.” Her gaze dropped to my lips. “Makes the reward... tastier.” She closed the distance, her lips crashing against mine in a fierce, possessive kiss. It wasn't gentle. It was claiming. Dominating. A brand. Her tongue forced its way past my lips, demanding, tasting my fear and tears. The knife pressed harder against my throat as she deepened the kiss, my eyes wide with shock and fear. The kiss was a violation, a terrifying mix of terror and unwanted arousal. My body trembled against hers, trapped between the cold bark and her relentless heat. She pulled back slightly, her eyes burning into mine. "You're mine now, Y/n," she breathed, her voice thick with dark promise. "Every scream. Every tear. Every fucking heartbeat." Her thumb brushed my cheekbone. "And I intend to collect." She leaned in again, her lips brushing my ear. "Starting now."

Her hand slid down from my jaw, over my collarbone, rough fingers tracing the soaked silk clinging to my chest. She cupped my breast through the wet fabric, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. "You've been watching me," she murmured against my ear, her voice a low purr that vibrated down my spine. "Haven't you? Little glances when you thought I wasn't looking. That blush when I touched you." Her other hand tightened on the knife hilt, pressing it flat against my throat now, a cold reminder. "Did you dream about this? About me touching you?" Her fingers pinched my nipple through the silk, sharp and deliberate. A jolt of unwanted heat shot through me, warring violently with the terror. "Answer me."

"Yes," I choked out, shame flooding me, hot and sickening.

She laughed, a dark, satisfied sound. "Good girl." Her hand slid lower, down my trembling stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my pajama pants. The silk was soaked, plastered to my skin. Her fingers were cold, rough against my lower belly. "And wet," she breathed, her voice thick with predatory delight. "Soaked through for me." Her fingers slid lower, tracing the curve of my hip bone, dipping towards the heat between my legs. "Were you thinking about me? While you hid? While you trembled?" Her fingers brushed the damp curls there, a feather-light touch that sent another treacherous pulse of arousal through me. "Did you touch yourself? Imagining it was my hand?"

I shook my head frantically, tears mixing with the rain on my cheeks. "N-no..."

"Liar," she hissed, her fingers pressing harder, parting me. She found the slick heat, already gathering despite the terror. "Your body doesn't lie, Y/n." She slid a finger inside me, slowly, deliberately. I gasped, arching against the tree involuntarily, the rough bark scraping my back. Her finger curled, finding a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. "I’ve heard you moaning my name" she murmured, her breath hot against my neck. "Late at night. Through the wall." She added a second finger, stretching me, the intrusion sharp and undeniable. "Such a dirty little secret." She began to move her fingers, a slow, torturous rhythm. "Did you dream about me fucking you? Taking you?" Her thumb found my clit, rubbing rough circles. Pleasure, sharp and shocking, ripped through me, warring violently with the fear, the knife at my throat, the rain chilling my skin. A choked moan escaped me.

"Yes," I whimpered, the confession torn from me. "Billie..."

"That's right," she growled, her fingers thrusting harder, faster. Her thumb pressed relentlessly against my clit. "Say my name. Beg for it." Her eyes burned into mine, the Ghostface mask pushed up on her forehead making her look monstrous, terrifyingly beautiful. "Beg me to fuck you."

The coil inside me tightened unbearably. Terror and arousal were a toxic cocktail, drowning me. The knife pressed coldly against my skin. Her fingers pistoned inside me, hitting that spot again and again. Her thumb was relentless. Pleasure built, terrifyingly intense, impossible to deny.

"Please," I gasped, my voice ragged. "Billie... please..."

"Please what?" she demanded, her thrusts becoming punishing. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Fuck me," I choked out, shame and desperation warring in my voice. "Please, Billie... fuck me!"

She snarled, a sound of pure triumph. She withdrew her fingers abruptly, leaving me achingly empty. Before I could react, she spun me around, pressing my front hard against the rough bark of the tree. My cheek scraped against the wet wood. She kicked my legs apart roughly. I heard the rustle of her clothes, the slick sound of her freeing herself. Her hand gripped my hip bone hard enough to bruise. The cold tip of the knife pressed against the base of my spine.

"Hold still," she commanded, her voice thick with lust. "Or I carve my name into you."

Then she was pressing against me, hard and hot. Not fingers. Something thicker, blunt. The head of her strap-on, slick with my arousal. She pushed forward, relentless, splitting me open. I cried out, the stretch intense, burning. She didn't stop. She drove into me with a single, brutal thrust, burying herself to the hilt inside me. The force slammed me against the tree, knocking the breath from my lungs. Pain and overwhelming fullness warred inside me.

She didn't pause. She pulled back almost entirely, then slammed forward again, setting a punishing rhythm. The wet slap of her hips against my ass echoed in the rain-drenched woods. The rough bark scraped my cheek, my breasts crushed against the unforgiving wood. Her hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. Her teeth scraped the tendon there, a sharp, possessive bite.

"You feel that?" she growled against my skin, her thrusts deep and unforgiving. "That's mine. Claiming you." She angled her hips, hitting a spot inside me that sent white-hot pleasure searing through my nerves, overriding the pain. "You belong to Ghostface now, Y/n. To me." Another brutal thrust. "Every scream you give me..." Thrust. "...every drop of wetness..." Thrust. "...every fucking heartbeat..." Thrust. "...is mine."

The pleasure was building again, terrifyingly fast, amplified by the danger, the roughness, the sheer violation. Her fingers dug into my hip, holding me in place as she pistoned into me. The knife tip pressed harder against my spine, a constant threat. Her breath was hot and ragged against my neck.

"Come for me," she commanded, her voice raw. "Come on my cock, Y/n. Show me how much you belong to me."

The command, the relentless pressure inside me, the terrifying intimacy of her possession – it shattered me. A scream tore from my throat, not of pain, but of pure, agonizing release. My body convulsed around her, clenching tight, waves of electric pleasure crashing through me, drowning out the terror, the shame, everything but the overwhelming sensation of being utterly claimed.

She groaned, a low, feral sound of satisfaction, burying herself deep inside me as I trembled through the aftershocks. Her hips jerked erratically against me, mimicking her own climax. She stayed buried deep, her body pressed flush against mine, pinning me to the tree. Her breath was hot and ragged against my neck, mingling with the rain. Her hand, still fisted in my hair, loosened slightly, fingers stroking the wet strands almost tenderly. The knife tip remained pressed against my spine.

"That's my girl," she murmured, “you’re gonna take one more round.” Her voice was thick with satisfaction, exhaustion, and something darker. Possession solidified. "Never forget who owns you now." She pressed a hard, biting kiss to the pulse point beneath my ear. "Never forget what happens when you run."

She pulled out slowly, the sudden emptiness a shock. I sagged against the tree, trembling violently, spent and hollowed out. Tears streamed down my face, indistinguishable from the downpour. “Turn around. On your knees.” She commanded. I turned slowly, my legs shaking. The rough bark scraped my back as I slid down the tree trunk, collapsing onto my knees in the wet gravel. Mud soaked through the thin silk instantly, cold and gritty against my skin. I kept my eyes downcast, fixed on the puddle forming between my knees, unable to look up at her.

Billie stood before me, towering, a dark silhouette against the storm-lashed woods. The Ghostface mask now pulled over her face as she pushes my forward onto all fours, sliding back into me. Her strap-on slid back into me with ease, slick with my own release. The intrusion was familiar now, brutal but efficient. She gripped my hips hard, fingers digging into bone, and began thrusting with deep, measured strokes. There was no urgency now, just possession. Each thrust pushed me forward onto my hands, scraping my palms on the wet gravel and roots. My cheek pressed into the cold mud. Rainwater pooled around my fingers.

She leaned forward, her chest pressing against my back, her breath hot against my ear through the mask. "Good girl," she growled, the modulated voice chilling. "Taking it so deep." Her thrusts were relentless, filling me completely with each push. "This is where you belong. On your knees. Taking what I give you." Her hand slid from my hip, snaking around my front, fingers finding my clit again. Rough, demanding circles. "You come again," she ordered, her voice devoid of warmth.

The dual assault was overwhelming. The deep, stretching fullness inside me, the rough stimulation on my clit – it built pressure too fast, too intense. A choked sob escaped me as my body betrayed me again, convulsing around her strap-on in a second, shattering climax. My vision whited out, my arms collapsing beneath me, my face sinking fully into the mud as wave after wave of pleasure-pain ripped through me.

She didn't stop. She rode out my tremors, her thrusts becoming shallower, grinding against me, prolonging the sensation until it bordered on agony. Finally, with a low grunt, she pulled out abruptly. I collapsed onto my side in the mud, gasping, trembling uncontrollably. Rain washed over me, cold and cleansing and utterly insufficient.

Straddling my hips, she yanks my hair back, snapping a photo of my fucked out face.

[bambiethaadoll-deactivated20260]

manifesting something.. (a girlfriend) 🕯

[billzbling]

@billzblings…

𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝑤/ 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑒𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ

❝𝐻𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘𝑡𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟!! 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐴𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑!!❞

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 - 𝑠𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑘? 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑘𝑛𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛,

Billie was late. Way later than she usually is. 2AM late. Which wouldn't be weird if she hadn't texted me at 9PM saying she'd be home soon, and that she just had some quick “business" to tend to. My phone sat untouched on the coffee table beside me, the last message glowing accusingly. I'd called three times. Straight to voicemail.

"Probably lost track of time or something " I muttered to myself, trying to ignore the knot tightening in my stomach. But Billie wasn't flaky. Not like that. Especially not with me. We'd been roommates since freshman year, inseparable. Well, almost inseparable. There were… gaps. Nights she'd vanish, come back smelling faintly of damp earth and something metallic she'd brush off as spilled gasoline. Times she'd be oddly distant, staring out the window with a chilling stillness. I always chalked it up to her intense personality, her artistic moodiness. Billie Eilish wasn't exactly known for being sunshine and rainbows, even to her best friend.

Tonight felt different. The silence was too thick. The city outside our apartment window felt unnervingly quiet. The usual car driving by and such, but still. I paced the small living room, bare feet padding softly on the worn rug. My silky pajamas felt suddenly inadequate against a creeping chill. Where was she? There’d been a recent series of murders, and the more I thought about it, the closer it seemed to be getting to my friends and I. Billie knows this, why would she stay out late if they hadn’t caught the killer yet?

My gaze drifted towards her bedroom door. It was slightly ajar. Unusual. Billie was fiercely private about her space. A sudden, irrational urge prickled under my skin. Maybe she left a note? Something explaining? Anything to ease this gnawing worry.

I pushed the door open slowly, the hinges whispering. Her room was dim, lit only by the streetlamp glow filtering through the blinds. It smelled like her – vanilla perfume, weed, and something uniquely Billie. Messy, but organized chaos. Clothes piled on a chair, sketchbooks strewn across her desk, makeup scattered near the vanity mirror.

My eyes scanned the familiar clutter, searching for anything out of place. Nothing. Just Billie’s world. I was about to turn and leave, feeling foolish for intruding, when my foot nudged something solid under the edge of her bed. Something heavy.

Curiosity warred with guilt. Don't snoop, Y/n. But the worry won. Kneeling, I reached under the bed frame, fingers brushing cold metal. I pulled it out.

It was a large, sturdy toolbox. Not the kind you'd use for art supplies or fixing a leaky faucet. This was industrial-grade, heavy-duty. The latch was stiff, but it clicked open under my fumbling fingers.

The smell hit me first. Coppery, thick, clinging to the back of my throat. Blood. Old blood. My breath hitched. Inside, nestled amidst wrenches and screwdrivers that looked suspiciously clean, unused, lay something else.

A mask.

Not just any mask. Ghostface. The Ghostface mask. The cheap plastic kind you’d buy at a Halloween store, except… it wasn't cheap plastic. It felt heavier, denser. And it was smeared. Dark, dried streaks marred the white surface around the eye holes and mouth slit. Streaks that looked horrifyingly like…

And the knife. Long, wicked-looking, with a black handle. Resting beside it. Gleaming faintly under the dim light. There were dark flecks dried onto the blade near the hilt.

My heart slammed against my ribs like a trapped bird. The world tilted. The metallic smell intensified, filling my head, making me dizzy. Ghostface. The murders. The late nights. The "business." The chilling stillness. It all crashed together in a horrifying, undeniable avalanche.

Billie. My Billie. The girl who shared her fries with me, who stayed up late watching bad horror movies with me curled under a blanket, whose dry wit made me laugh until I cried… Ghostface.

A choked gasp escaped me. I dropped the mask back into the toolbox like it had burned me, scrambling backwards on my hands and knees, my silk pajamas snagging on the rough carpet. I bumped hard against her desk chair, knocking a sketchbook to the floor. Pages fanned open.

Not sketches. Photos. Newspaper clippings. Printed articles. Faces stared up at me. Victims. Names I recognized from the news feeds. Dates. Locations circled in red marker. And notes. Neat, precise handwriting I knew intimately – Billie's handwriting. Observations. Times. Habits. Weaknesses.

"Target exhibits predictable jogging route…"

"Security camera blind spot confirmed at rear entrance…"

"Subject often leaves balcony door unlocked after midnight…"

My stomach lurched. I clapped a hand over my mouth, bile rising hot and sour. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Billie. Ghostface. Billie is Ghostface.

Outside, the sound of keys coming towards our apartment shattered the suffocating silence.

Panic, pure and icy, flooded my veins. She was back. *Now*. I was in her room. I’d seen… everything. I scrambled frantically, trying to push the toolbox back under the bed with trembling hands, grabbing the fallen sketchbook, shoving it haphazardly onto the desk. The sound of keys rattling outside the apartment door felt deafening. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed in the hallway outside our apartment door. Shoving everything back into its place, I rushed outside of her room and shut the door behind me. My heart was pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears.

The lock clicked. The front door swung open.

Billie stood silhouetted against the dim hallway light. Rain glistened in her dark hair, plastering strands to her pale forehead. Her oversized black hoodie was soaked through, clinging to her frame. She looked… tired. But her eyes, sharp and assessing, scanned the living room instantly, landing on me.

I stood frozen near her bedroom door, clutching my elbows, trying desperately to look normal. Trying to force air into my lungs. Trying to erase the image of that mask, that knife, those notes from my mind.

"Y/n?" Her voice was low, questioning. Not her usual playful tone, “you alright?” She shut the door behind her, locking it. The sound echoed in the sudden quiet. She shrugged off her soaked hoodie, revealing a black tank top underneath. Water dripped onto the hardwood floor. Her gaze didn't waver from mine.

“N-nothing, I just feel a little sick. Was gonna ask if you had some ibuprofen or something.” I stammered, my voice sounding unnaturally high, brittle. “You’re soaked. Where were you?” The question tumbled out, laced with a tremor I couldn't suppress.

Billie tilted her head slightly, a slow, deliberate movement. Her eyes narrowed, just a fraction. They weren't just tired; they were watchful. Calculating. Like a predator assessing prey. She took a step forward, her wet boots leaving damp prints on the floor. The scent of rain mingled with something else… damp earth? And underneath it, faint but unmistakable, that metallic tang. Blood.

“Out with some friends, ibuprofen you said?” She said it casually, but her gaze flickered past me, towards her bedroom door. Towards the slight gap I hadn't managed to close completely. My heart hammered against my ribs. Could she see the toolbox wasn't quite flush with the bed frame? Did she notice the sketchbook wasn't perfectly aligned on the desk? Billie noticed everything, would she notice this?

“Yeah,” I managed, forcing a weak smile. “Headache. Must be the weather.” I gestured vaguely towards the window. My hands were shaking. I shoved them into the pockets of my pajama pants.

Billie didn't move. Her stillness was unnerving. She just stood there, dripping onto the floor, her dark eyes locked onto mine. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The only sound was the frantic drumming of my own pulse in my ears and the soft drip of water from her clothes.

Then, slowly, a small, knowing smile touched her lips. “I’ll see if I have any, I might be out.”

She walked past me, heading towards her bedroom door. Her shoulder brushed mine. It wasn't an accident. It was deliberate, possessive. Electric. Terrifying.

My breath hitched. Every instinct screamed run. But my legs felt like lead. I watched, paralyzed, as she pushed her bedroom door fully open and stepped inside. She paused on the threshold, her back to me. Her head tilted slightly, as if listening. Or smelling. Could she smell the fear radiating off me? Could she sense the frantic energy vibrating through my bones?

She disappeared into the gloom of her room. The door didn't close.

I stood rooted to the spot, caught between the impulse to bolt for the front door and the paralyzing fear of what would happen if I did. What if she heard? What if she caught me?

Seconds crawled by. I heard the soft scrape of the toolbox being pulled out from under the bed. The rustle of papers. The faint click of the latch closing again.

Then silence.

She emerged moments later, holding a small bottle of pills. Her expression was unreadable, a mask smoother than the one in the toolbox. She walked towards me, stopping mere inches away. The scent of rain and earth and blood was stronger now, mixed with her vanilla perfume. It was dizzying.

“Hold on, this one’s empty, can you toss it for me? I’ll see if i have any more?” She held out the bottle. It was indeed empty. Her fingers brushed mine as I took it. Her touch was cold, deliberate. Her eyes held mine captive. There was no warmth there now. No trace of the Billie who shared fries. Only a chilling intensity, a predator assessing its next move.

The empty bottle felt like a grenade in my hand. The air crackled with unspoken terror. She knew. She had to know.

Maybe this is my chance to run. Maybe she’s giving me a head start. Or maybe… maybe she’s just savoring it. The hunt. The fear. The betrayal she must feel radiating from me. The silence stretched, thick with unsaid accusations and the phantom scent of blood. Her gaze didn't waver. It pinned me to the spot, dissecting my terror. The empty bottle was a taunt, a test. Did I dare move? Did I dare breathe?

She turned her back to me slowly, “one minute.”

She smiled back at me. Run. Now.

I bolted for the front door. My hand fumbled frantically with the deadbolt, fingers slick with sweat. The lock turned. I yanked the door open, stumbling out into the rain-slicked hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows. Behind me, no sound. No pursuit. Just the heavy silence of the apartment left behind.

I didn't look back. I sprinted down the hallway towards the stairs, heart hammering against my ribs. The elevator was too slow, a death trap. Stairs. Third floor. Two flights down. My bare feet slapped against the cold concrete steps.

Down one flight. The stairwell echoed with my ragged breaths. Down another. Ground floor exit. I pushed the heavy metal door open, bursting out into the alley behind our building. Rain lashed down, instantly soaking my pajamas. The alley stretched ahead, dark, wet asphalt gleaming under a single flickering streetlight. The dumpster loomed to the right, overflowing. Shadows pooled deep against the brick walls. Where? The park. Trees. Hide.

I darted left, making my way through the park towards the walking path that cut through the woods. Rain plastered my hair to my forehead, blinding me. I stumbled over roots and grass, hiding behind a large tree. It’d been way over a minute now. She was probably near. I pressed my back against the rough bark, trying to silence my breathing. Rain drummed on leaves, masking sound. Maybe. Please.

The woods felt immense, dark, swallowing. Every rustle of leaves was her boot. Every drip was her breath. I peered around the trunk, scanning the rain-blurred park entrance. Nothing moved but the downpour. Relief, cold and shaky, washed over me. She hadn't followed. Or… she was waiting. Hunting.

A twig snapped sharply behind me. Left. Not rain. Instinct screamed move. I spun, stumbling deeper into the woods, away from the path, towards thicker brush. Thorns scratched my arms, wet branches slapped my face. I didn't care. Deeper. Darker. Hide. Find cover. A large oak loomed ahead, roots forming a hollow. I scrambled towards it, diving into the damp, earthy space beneath the gnarled roots. Curled tight, knees to chest, I listened. Only rain. Only wind. Only my frantic heart.

Minutes bled into an eternity. The storm raged, but no footsteps came. No chilling whispers. Just the drumming rain and the creak of ancient wood. Exhaustion pulled at me, a heavy weight. Had she given up? Or was she circling? Waiting for me to break cover? The hollow smelled of wet earth and decay. Safe? For now. But Billie didn't hunt like prey. She hunted like a sculptor chiseling marble. Precise. Patient. Relentless. Her scent lingered. My stomach twisted. She was a professional. My stomach twisted. Paranoia clawed at me. The silence was deafening.

Until it wasn’t. A sound cut through it. And not just any sound, it was my song. Billie's voice. Humming my song. The one I always hummed when I was nervous or concentrating. Billie found it cute. She was teasing me. Softly, hauntingly, drifting through the rain-lashed woods.

She’s getting closer. There’s no way out but forward, but there’s a clearing in front of me. She’d see me for sure. I stayed frozen in the hollow, paralyzed. The humming grew louder, weaving through the trees like a ghostly melody. It was coming from… everywhere. Left? Right? Impossible to pinpoint. My song. My fear. Weaponized.

A shadow detached itself from the deeper gloom near a cluster of dripping ferns. Tall, lean, moving with unnatural silence. Billie. Not running. Not frantic. Strolling. Casual. Hands in the pockets of her black jeans, her soaked white t-shirt clinging to her frame. Rain plastered her dark hair flat against her skull. Her head was tilted back slightly, humming my song softly, perfectly. Her dead eyes scanned the trees, the brush, the hollows. Searching. Knowing.

She stopped maybe ten feet from my hiding place. The humming ceased. Silence crashed back, heavier than before. Rain dripped from the oak leaves onto her shoulders. She didn't look directly at my hollow. Not yet. She just stood there, head tilted, listening. Smelling? Her nostrils flared slightly.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Her voice was a low purr, cutting through the drumming rain. It wasn't playful. It was velvet-wrapped steel. Commanding. Absolute. “I know you’re close, Y/n. I can smell your fear.” A pause. A slow, deliberate inhale.

My hand instinctively flew to my mouth, hiding my sob. Oh god. Oh god no. She couldn't know. Not that. Not yet.

Billie took a single, deliberate step and stupidly I ran. I scrambled out of the hollow, slipping on wet leaves, crashing through a thicket of low-hanging branches. Thorns ripped at my silk pajamas, drawing thin lines of fire across my arms and legs. I didn't look back until I felt her tug my hair back with full force. She pulled me back by my hair, pulling me off the ground, my back on her chest. Her arm wrapped around my waist tightly, her other hand gripping a knife to my throat. She leaned down to my ear, her breath hot against my skin. "Running was stupid, baby," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous. "But it was kinda hot." The knife pressed lightly against my throat. "Now," she murmured, her lips brushed my ear lobe, "Did you think you could hide from me?" Her grip tightened on my hair, pulling my head back further, exposing my throat. "I track killers for fun, Y/n. You think some wet woods scare me?" Her laugh was a dark rumble against my spine. "You found my trophies. Saw my work." The knife traced a chilling line down my throat, not breaking skin, but promising it could. "Now... what am I gonna do with you?" She murmured into my ear, sliding the knife up to chin, forcing me to look up. Her eyes were dark pools, devoid of warmth, only predatory hunger. "Such a pretty little spy..."

My breath came in shallow gasps. The cold metal bit into my skin. Tears I couldn't stop running down my face. "Billie..." My voice was a choked whisper. "Please..."

"Please?" Her chuckle vibrated against my back. "Please what, Y/n? Please don't gut you?" She takes a few steps back before slamming me into a tree, knife still pointed at me. She’s got the mask on her head without it being pulled over her face. She leaned in close, her lips inches from mine. "You saw everything. My notes. My tools. My trophies. You know what I am." Her free hand came up, fingers tracing the line of my jaw, surprisingly gentle, terrifyingly intimate. "And yet... you beg for mercy?” She tilted her head, studying my face. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” She murmured, her thumb brushing my bottom lip. “And mine.” Her eyes darkened. “You shouldn’t have run.” She leaned in, her lips hovering over mine. “But I like it when my prey fights back.” She whispered, her breath mingling with mine. “Makes the catch sweeter.” Her gaze dropped to my lips. “Makes the reward... tastier.” She closed the distance, her lips crashing against mine in a fierce, possessive kiss. It wasn't gentle. It was claiming. Dominating. A brand. Her tongue forced its way past my lips, demanding, tasting my fear and tears. The knife pressed harder against my throat as she deepened the kiss, my eyes wide with shock and fear. The kiss was a violation, a terrifying mix of terror and unwanted arousal. My body trembled against hers, trapped between the cold bark and her relentless heat. She pulled back slightly, her eyes burning into mine. "You're mine now, Y/n," she breathed, her voice thick with dark promise. "Every scream. Every tear. Every fucking heartbeat." Her thumb brushed my cheekbone. "And I intend to collect." She leaned in again, her lips brushing my ear. "Starting now."

Her hand slid down from my jaw, over my collarbone, rough fingers tracing the soaked silk clinging to my chest. She cupped my breast through the wet fabric, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp. "You've been watching me," she murmured against my ear, her voice a low purr that vibrated down my spine. "Haven't you? Little glances when you thought I wasn't looking. That blush when I touched you." Her other hand tightened on the knife hilt, pressing it flat against my throat now, a cold reminder. "Did you dream about this? About me touching you?" Her fingers pinched my nipple through the silk, sharp and deliberate. A jolt of unwanted heat shot through me, warring violently with the terror. "Answer me."

"Yes," I choked out, shame flooding me, hot and sickening.

She laughed, a dark, satisfied sound. "Good girl." Her hand slid lower, down my trembling stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of my pajama pants. The silk was soaked, plastered to my skin. Her fingers were cold, rough against my lower belly. "And wet," she breathed, her voice thick with predatory delight. "Soaked through for me." Her fingers slid lower, tracing the curve of my hip bone, dipping towards the heat between my legs. "Were you thinking about me? While you hid? While you trembled?" Her fingers brushed the damp curls there, a feather-light touch that sent another treacherous pulse of arousal through me. "Did you touch yourself? Imagining it was my hand?"

I shook my head frantically, tears mixing with the rain on my cheeks. "N-no..."

"Liar," she hissed, her fingers pressing harder, parting me. She found the slick heat, already gathering despite the terror. "Your body doesn't lie, Y/n." She slid a finger inside me, slowly, deliberately. I gasped, arching against the tree involuntarily, the rough bark scraping my back. Her finger curled, finding a spot that made stars burst behind my eyelids. "I’ve heard you moaning my name" she murmured, her breath hot against my neck. "Late at night. Through the wall." She added a second finger, stretching me, the intrusion sharp and undeniable. "Such a dirty little secret." She began to move her fingers, a slow, torturous rhythm. "Did you dream about me fucking you? Taking you?" Her thumb found my clit, rubbing rough circles. Pleasure, sharp and shocking, ripped through me, warring violently with the fear, the knife at my throat, the rain chilling my skin. A choked moan escaped me.

"Yes," I whimpered, the confession torn from me. "Billie..."

"That's right," she growled, her fingers thrusting harder, faster. Her thumb pressed relentlessly against my clit. "Say my name. Beg for it." Her eyes burned into mine, the Ghostface mask pushed up on her forehead making her look monstrous, terrifyingly beautiful. "Beg me to fuck you."

The coil inside me tightened unbearably. Terror and arousal were a toxic cocktail, drowning me. The knife pressed coldly against my skin. Her fingers pistoned inside me, hitting that spot again and again. Her thumb was relentless. Pleasure built, terrifyingly intense, impossible to deny.

"Please," I gasped, my voice ragged. "Billie... please..."

"Please what?" she demanded, her thrusts becoming punishing. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"Fuck me," I choked out, shame and desperation warring in my voice. "Please, Billie... fuck me!"

She snarled, a sound of pure triumph. She withdrew her fingers abruptly, leaving me achingly empty. Before I could react, she spun me around, pressing my front hard against the rough bark of the tree. My cheek scraped against the wet wood. She kicked my legs apart roughly. I heard the rustle of her clothes, the slick sound of her freeing herself. Her hand gripped my hip bone hard enough to bruise. The cold tip of the knife pressed against the base of my spine.

"Hold still," she commanded, her voice thick with lust. "Or I carve my name into you."

Then she was pressing against me, hard and hot. Not fingers. Something thicker, blunt. The head of her strap-on, slick with my arousal. She pushed forward, relentless, splitting me open. I cried out, the stretch intense, burning. She didn't stop. She drove into me with a single, brutal thrust, burying herself to the hilt inside me. The force slammed me against the tree, knocking the breath from my lungs. Pain and overwhelming fullness warred inside me.

She didn't pause. She pulled back almost entirely, then slammed forward again, setting a punishing rhythm. The wet slap of her hips against my ass echoed in the rain-drenched woods. The rough bark scraped my cheek, my breasts crushed against the unforgiving wood. Her hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back, exposing my throat. Her teeth scraped the tendon there, a sharp, possessive bite.

"You feel that?" she growled against my skin, her thrusts deep and unforgiving. "That's mine. Claiming you." She angled her hips, hitting a spot inside me that sent white-hot pleasure searing through my nerves, overriding the pain. "You belong to Ghostface now, Y/n. To me." Another brutal thrust. "Every scream you give me..." Thrust. "...every drop of wetness..." Thrust. "...every fucking heartbeat..." Thrust. "...is mine."

The pleasure was building again, terrifyingly fast, amplified by the danger, the roughness, the sheer violation. Her fingers dug into my hip, holding me in place as she pistoned into me. The knife tip pressed harder against my spine, a constant threat. Her breath was hot and ragged against my neck.

"Come for me," she commanded, her voice raw. "Come on my cock, Y/n. Show me how much you belong to me."

The command, the relentless pressure inside me, the terrifying intimacy of her possession – it shattered me. A scream tore from my throat, not of pain, but of pure, agonizing release. My body convulsed around her, clenching tight, waves of electric pleasure crashing through me, drowning out the terror, the shame, everything but the overwhelming sensation of being utterly claimed.

She groaned, a low, feral sound of satisfaction, burying herself deep inside me as I trembled through the aftershocks. Her hips jerked erratically against me, mimicking her own climax. She stayed buried deep, her body pressed flush against mine, pinning me to the tree. Her breath was hot and ragged against my neck, mingling with the rain. Her hand, still fisted in my hair, loosened slightly, fingers stroking the wet strands almost tenderly. The knife tip remained pressed against my spine.

"That's my girl," she murmured, “you’re gonna take one more round.” Her voice was thick with satisfaction, exhaustion, and something darker. Possession solidified. "Never forget who owns you now." She pressed a hard, biting kiss to the pulse point beneath my ear. "Never forget what happens when you run."

She pulled out slowly, the sudden emptiness a shock. I sagged against the tree, trembling violently, spent and hollowed out. Tears streamed down my face, indistinguishable from the downpour. “Turn around. On your knees.” She commanded. I turned slowly, my legs shaking. The rough bark scraped my back as I slid down the tree trunk, collapsing onto my knees in the wet gravel. Mud soaked through the thin silk instantly, cold and gritty against my skin. I kept my eyes downcast, fixed on the puddle forming between my knees, unable to look up at her.

Billie stood before me, towering, a dark silhouette against the storm-lashed woods. The Ghostface mask now pulled over her face as she pushes my forward onto all fours, sliding back into me. Her strap-on slid back into me with ease, slick with my own release. The intrusion was familiar now, brutal but efficient. She gripped my hips hard, fingers digging into bone, and began thrusting with deep, measured strokes. There was no urgency now, just possession. Each thrust pushed me forward onto my hands, scraping my palms on the wet gravel and roots. My cheek pressed into the cold mud. Rainwater pooled around my fingers.

She leaned forward, her chest pressing against my back, her breath hot against my ear through the mask. "Good girl," she growled, the modulated voice chilling. "Taking it so deep." Her thrusts were relentless, filling me completely with each push. "This is where you belong. On your knees. Taking what I give you." Her hand slid from my hip, snaking around my front, fingers finding my clit again. Rough, demanding circles. "You come again," she ordered, her voice devoid of warmth.

The dual assault was overwhelming. The deep, stretching fullness inside me, the rough stimulation on my clit – it built pressure too fast, too intense. A choked sob escaped me as my body betrayed me again, convulsing around her strap-on in a second, shattering climax. My vision whited out, my arms collapsing beneath me, my face sinking fully into the mud as wave after wave of pleasure-pain ripped through me.

She didn't stop. She rode out my tremors, her thrusts becoming shallower, grinding against me, prolonging the sensation until it bordered on agony. Finally, with a low grunt, she pulled out abruptly. I collapsed onto my side in the mud, gasping, trembling uncontrollably. Rain washed over me, cold and cleansing and utterly insufficient.

Straddling my hips, she yanks my hair back, snapping a photo of my fucked out face.

[odellas-comet]

obsession | fem!reader x fuckboy!billie

➠ tw: nsfw, dubcon, manipulation, toxic ass dynamic, fingering, scissoring, cnc if you squint, alcohol consumption, they have a set safe word, billie is the toxic one, degradation, yall seriously this is dark, READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING

➠ billie isn’t too happy when she sees you out with your friends and a new man after the official breakup. in fact, she took it as an invitation when you posted your location to your instagram story.

➢ wc: 4.1k

strobe lights pulsed in every direction, slicing through the thick haze of fog and bodies packed close together. the chaos combined with the dizzying amount of alcohol coursing through your veins made the entire club feel like it was spinning slightly off-kilter.

you were surrounded by friends, a vodka cranberry clutched tightly in your hand. you swayed drunkenly to the heavy bass that thumped through your core. was this your seventh drink? or your eighth? you blinked hard, trying to remember— and then decided it didn’t matter. you didn’t want to remember.

"y/n!" your friend, sophia, shouts your name through the loud thumping of music. "look over there." she cranes your neck to the bar, where a tall, light-haired man stands. his eyes lock onto yours, and you feel your face flush as you look back towards sophia.

"what about him?" you slur, resting your hand on her shoulder for balance as the room continued to tilt. your breath hitched as you continued to feel his stare.

sophia leaned in close, her voice loud in your ear. “he’s been eye-fucking you all night long. i swear to god, we’ve been watching.”

your eyebrows rose in slight amusement, but your chest tightened. “we couldn’t tell who he was staring at, but it's been you. the entire night.”

"if he's so interested, he can make a move on me." you give her a partial lie. you didn't want to explain how your heart was still in the hands of a somebody else.

“uhh… y/n.” sophia’s voice faltered as her gaze drifted past your shoulder. the confusion etched across her face was enough to draw your attention, but before you could question it, you were already mid-sentence.

“and besides,” you slurred, stumbling slightly as you leaned on her for support, “i don’t need anyone, soph. right now, i am doing just fine on my ow-“

a soft tap on your shoulder stopped the words dead in your mouth.

you turned unsteadily, and found yourself face-to-chest with a man.

the staring man from the bar.

up close, he was attractive. tall, broad-shouldered, with light hair that looked intentionally messy and a black-and-white flannel that hung loose. he smiled down at you, and it was the kind of smile that made the alcohol in your system buzz harder.

you always have had a strong preference for women, and sometimes even questioned if you were even attracted to men.

but, the attention was nice. and you’d take anything to not think of her for another night.

“good luck!” sophia blurted in your ear, voice giddy before she disappeared back into the crowd.

“what’s your name?” the stranger asked, voice deep. his smile stayed put— easy and confident as his eyes flicked over your frame.

“y/n!” you shouted back, rising onto your tiptoes to get closer to his ear. your balance wobbled, but you managed a grin.

“i’m isaiah,” he replied, pausing to take you in. “wanna go upstairs to the lounge? quieter up there.”

you blinked at him, brain foggy from shots and dancing and the adrenaline of sudden attention. more to yourself than him, you muttered low, “fuck it. why not?”

isaiah turned with a smirk, heading toward the back staircase, and you glanced behind you once more. your friends were still watching— clapping and cheering your name. you rolled your eyes at them and followed isaiah close behind.

“i’m gonna hold onto you!” you called out, grabbing a handful of his flannel as you stumbled after him.

“smart move,” he called back, chuckling. “wouldn’t wanna lose the company of such a pretty girl.”

your laughter came out a tipsy giggle, face blushing red at the silly compliment. this felt good. it was a distraction, and honestly, it’s what you needed most right now.

the lounge upstairs felt like a different world. the music still thumped through the walls, but it was muffled now. warm lighting casted a soft glow over the space, and scattered groups lounged in velvet booths. you could finally hear your own thoughts, even though they were still tangled in alcohol and adrenaline.

isaiah guided you to the bar, pulling out a stool. you climbed onto it with a little less grace than intended, but he didn’t seem to mind. he took the seat beside you, signaling the bartender with the flick of his hand.

thirty minutes blurred past.

you continued to drink more than you should have— and the edges of the world began to soften. the two of you talked, laughed, and traded stories. he leaned in when you spoke, like your words actually meant something.

and for a moment, you let yourself pretend they did.

then, without warning, you felt his hand.

it landed gently on your inner thigh, giving you a slight squeeze.

the contact sent a jolt through your body. your breath caught, but not from discomfort. no, you didn’t mind it. at least, not physically.

emotionally? you weren't so sure.

because while your body responded, your heart didn’t.

isaiah was fun. he was easy. a distraction from the girl who never left your mind. but he wasn’t her. he didn’t make your chest tighten or your lungs forget how to work. you liked isaiah— but in the way you liked a song you’d forget by morning.

still… a hookup wouldn’t hurt, right?

you leaned back in your seat, head thrown back in a laugh that was probably too loud for the setting.

until you saw her.

your laugh hitched in the back of your throat, blood running cold— your somber expression left isaiah laughing by his lonesome.

across the room, partially hidden in the shadows near the stairs, stood the one person you never expected to see tonight.

billie. she was here.

the girl who broke you without ever apologizing. the girl who’d kissed you with promise and lied to you with ease.

and in that moment there was nothing— not the drinks, not isaiah’s hand, not the cheers from your friends, that could drown this out.

because she was staring right back at you.

and she looked furious.

"i- uh," your voice was small as you look away from her beading eyes, turning your attention back to isaiah. "i've got to go. it was really nice meeting you." you spoke hurriedly, gathering your things and pushing yourself from the bar chair.

"woah woah woah," isaiah spoke, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging gently. "did i say something wrong?"

"no,” the corners of your lips tightened into a forced smile. you look back at the spot billie was once stood, starring at you— but she’s gone. there's nobody there. "here, take this. maybe i'll see you around." you sloshed your words rapidly.

you lazily scribbled your number on a half-soaked napkin, pushing it towards the man before jerking away at his grasp. he lets you go without putting up anymore of a fight, and you're left stumbling around trying to find the exit.

you could feel your heart fervid in your chest. what the fuck was she doing here? billie hated drinking. overcome with turmoil, you finally found the entrance to the stairs. you begin breathing heavy, a panic-attack forcing its way into your system. all you wanted to do was find your way back to your friends to let them know you all needed to leave urgently.

staggering down the dimly-lit staircase, you're able to contain your heavy panting as you successfully escaped the girl who ruined you.

but as you’re about to turn the corner to enter the main floor, where you can hear screams and chants of whatever club-life song is playing, someone stops you.

a hand covers your mouth and slams you against the cold, concreate wall of the club.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?" the familiar tone spits.

it's billie, and she stares down at you with intense indignation. she gazes at you as if you had just murdered her entire bloodline, and her crystal blue eyes cut into yours like knives.

"mmphm," you mumble against her hand, your own eyes glazed with terror. she drops the hand, but her body is still pressed tightly against your own. "i'm moving on." your voice shakes.

"posting your location like you didn’t know i’d come and find you." she scoffed. “it’s pathetic, baby. but you got me now.”

you don't know what comes over you— maybe it's the alcohol or the tumultuous setting, but you are sure filled with rage at the comment. "me, pathetic? look at you, i mean, did you think i wanted you to come?" your voice holds more power this time, emphasizing every word to potentially make her feel insane.

to your adversity, it didn't work. or maybe it did, and her reaction was how she camouflaged it.

"don't act stupid, you knew i'd come looking for you. i've been missing you, sweetheart." her voice is sultry in your ears, yet your nervous system still flared with anxiety at her touch.

"you're fucking crazy, billie!” you yell over the music. without warning, you shove her backwards with you're entire force. she falters back, catching herself before she tips over, and you brush past her with ease. “i’m leaving.”

a hands-reach away from the door, two hands pull you backwards, spinning you around shockingly gracefully for how inebriated you are.

she had an insatiable hunger in her eyes this time, holding you in front of her by your shoulders. it wasn't enough to hurt you, but you knew if you tried to move, it would be.

"you wanna see fuckin' crazy?" billie exploded, tilting her head. "i'll show you crazy." the darkness in her expression sparked something within your chest, and you can't tell if it's terror or euphoria. billie yanks you behind her, giving you no choice but to follow sheepishly. you can barely walk properly as she lunged for the exit, pushing through the huge crowd of sweaty club-goers.

"billie! what the fuck are you doing?" you yell over the music, exasperated. she doesn't turn to answer you, only pulls you behind her with much more drive. "my friends!"

finally outside the nightclub, billie turns to face you, releasing your grip on her. it's like she knew you weren't going to try and escape.

"good thing we'll have a long enough car ride that you can text them and let them know you went home with whateverthefuckhisnamewas." billie seethes, furrowing her eyebrows at you.

"you fucked up!" you scream back at the girl with bewilderment. "and now i can't move on? fuck you."

"oh yeah?" she taunts, interlocking her hand with yours and dragging you around the corner of the joint, pinching you between her and the cold wall. much like she did inside, except this time you were outside in an alley-way. "you're gonna want to watch how you talk to me, baby."

excitement, no— you're not sure what it is, but the feeling you have is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

"or what?" you sloshed back at the girl, helpless beneath her firm grip. you wanted things to be different, yet you always found yourself drunk on her persuasion. and at the moment, also drunk with the extensive amount of shots you had taken earlier.

"you're about to find out." billie spoke solemnly, her voice much more tranquil now that she’s got you right where she wants you. 

you open your lips to respond, until billie’s frivolous hands find their way beneath the tight, black mini-skirt you had on. a small gasp escapes from you, eyes widened at her. she keeps the tiny piece of clothing on, yet eagerly pushes your underwear to the side, her hand sliding firm against your core. 

this provokes a reaction from you— you try, not very hard, to push her hand away, but to no avail, billie advances. 

"billie! someone's gonna see,”

"yeah? maybe like that fucker trying to get with my girl?" she hissed, impatiently finding your clit. she used her long, calloused middle finger to rub circles around your sweet spot, eliciting a moan that escaped from your throat. 

"i'm not your girl!" you cry out, slowly succumbing to how good her finger felt working on you. it was truly was pathetic— since she knew every exact spot that electrified you, you melted right underneath her. the way your body grinded against her finger defied the harsh words you spoke to her. 

billie removed her touch from you're core, leaving you trembling. "aww," she cooed as you look down at your feet, clearly ashamed. "ah, ah." she shook her head in disapproval as she took your chin between her pointer finger and thumb, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. "tell me you want me to stop." 

nothing. you said... nothing. you blinked at her in response, and gulped as your back was still pressed against the cold brick.

she leans in, her mouth pressed against your ear. "that's what i thought," she growled at you, nipping at the tip of your earlobe with her teeth. it sends shivers down your spine as she plants wet, sloppy kisses down the side of your neck. "come on sweet girl, come home to me." 

again, you say nothing. billie appears happy to take this as an invitation to grab a you by your hand, and tug you along with her once again.

"i knew you'd be such a good girl, i mean, look at you,” she smirked at you before opening the passenger seat of her blacked out car, which was parked right out front. it was almost like this was her plan the entire time. “all desperate to just get in my car.”

it all hit you like a truck— you were aware, but not to the fullest extent as you slid into her front seat. beaming car lights flying by you on the busy road all suddenly swirled into a blurry mess. you crane your neck towards the driver seat, an action that costs you the rest of your vision. 

you needed to get it together, to stand up for yourself and march out of this car, but the alcohol had it's claws sunken deep into you. or maybe, it was billie, as she smoothly slides into the driver seat and clicks your seatbelt over you, then his over herself. 

"l-let me go," your voice quivers, and you're wondering how angry billie would be if you potentially threw up in her car. 

"you're free to go, pretty girl." 

you look at her, then the sidewalk, busting with drunken and disorderly college students everywhere. you glare at her before sinking down into the passenger seat of the car you knew all too well, eyes fluttering shut. 

good thing you didn't see the smirk apparent on billie’s face as he shifted the car into drive, taking off with haste.

you drifted in and out of consciousness, taking precise notice every time billie’s hand traveled to your upper thigh and squeezed softly. it's truly the only thing keeping you from completely passing out in the car, a soft whimper escaping you every time she hits a bump and brushes your heat with her fingers.

after a short drive, you don't exactly remember going inside. you don't remember leaning on billie for balance, allowing her to escort you to her apartment, up the stairs and to the right. you don't remember allowing billie to help you out of your shoes, your socks, and certainly not your skirt. 

at least, that's the story your friends were going to hear after tonight.

they all despised billie.

"the second i saw you in this," billie hissed under her breath, her hands greedily roaming the entirety of your body, gripping at the fabric of your skirt. "i knew i was going to be the one taking it off of you tonight, not anybody else." 

billie had taken no time laying you flat on her bed, and you let her touch you all over without putting up a fight. as much as you wanted to, it felt too good. she felt too good.

"bils," your voice was frail. "stop, please." you begged, finally mustering some strength to roll out of her grasp and to the edge of his bed.

"uh uh," she shook her head, quick to hover over you. your eyes widened as she leaned in, her warm, thick lips only inches away from yours. she runs her tongue over your bottom lip before taking it into her own mouth, biting down on you softly as if she was claiming you. "you knew i'd come for you, don't play stupid now." 

"we shouldn't,” you whine, yet her lips only persuaded you to stay. this time, billie fully interlocks her lips onto yours, moving at an achingly slow pace. she kisses you so deep, with so much passion, you can't help but dip your tongue into her mouth, fighting against her before hesitantly pulling back. "we're not together anymore." 

"oh, yeah? we're not?" she challenges, licking her lips as if it was an attempt to taste you again. in seconds, billie’s got your skirt and underwear pooled at your ankles, leaving you with just your crop top on. without warning, billie begins to suck and kiss on the inside of your thighs. "come on baby, i just wanna talk, we can work this out, yeah?" she mumbles against your skin, tickling you.

you gasp, the motion sending quivers throughout your core. she kisses all the way up to your heat just before abruptly pulling back, leaving her emptiness cold. 

it doesn't take long for her to eagerly put her lips back onto yours, her hands tracing the designs on your shirt. 

that is, until she takes both of her hands, grips the fabric at the top of your shirt, and completely tears it in two, tossing it to the floor. 

"hey!" you raise your voice, sitting upwards and now feeling much more vulnerable with zero clothes on.

"always fuckin' hated that top," billie growled, ignoring your annoyance. she rests her hand on your stomach, pushing you back so you're lying down again, underneath her. "hated seeing you go out in that..." she trailed, her hands making their way back down to your core. 

"we- we can't do this!" you plead, which only lead billie to insert two of her fingers inside of you. your mouth gaped open, and you let out a deep gasp as you felt the entirety of her fingers reach deep inside of you. 

"shhh," she purred, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly pushed her middle finger and pointer finger in and out of you. "how wet you are for me says otherwise, you little slut." her voice was in your ear now, fingers picking up the speed as you squirmed beneath her weight. every so often, she'd curl them upwards, reaching a sweet spot that almost had you screaming her name.

"fuuuck," you drug out breathlessly— the overwhelming pleasure of her fingers was hard to be upset with. billie always knew what made you feel good. “billie.”

her motion of in-and-out turn rapid, her hand becoming slick with you. "you are such a little needy fuckin' slut for me," billie spoke arrogantly, and you moved your hips to be in-synch with the movement of her fingers. "my little play-toy, all mine." 

"god bil-" your voice hitched for a second. "god, i- fuck you!" you try and hold your ground beneath her, but let's face it, at this point it's worthless. you shove her backwards as you sit yourself upright.

"aww, fuck me? your wish is my command,” billie smiled smugly before ridding herself of her shirt, bra, and jeans. “i’ve missed that pretty pussy ever since you left me, mi amor.”

billie chuckled to herself low and cruel as she shoved you flat onto the bed, climbing on top of you in one swift motion. her hands pinned your shoulders down, knees straddling your hips. leaning in, billie nipped at your earlobe, hard enough to draw a gasp from you. “i know you miss this, admit it.”

you squirmed, but billie’s weight held her firm. “you’re such a bitch, billie!” you cried, even as your legs parted slightly.

“mhm, that’s right, baby. your bitch.” billie ground your hips down, feeling slick building between your heats. billie’s mouth descended, sucking roughly on your nipple, teeth grazing your sensitive peak until you arched and moaned below her.

“fuck, billie— we should stop.” you panted. yet to no avail, billie didn’t listen. and apart of you was glad. you needed her more than anything.

billie lifted her head, her eyes dark with possession. “you don't want me to stop. you want me to fuck you like i used to. even harder. meaner.” she slid a hand between your thighs, cupping your heat. you were soaked. “see? your pretty pussy's begging for it.” it’s like she read your mind.

as your legs spread wide for billie, your slick folds are glistening. billie pressed her bare body down to yours, skin on skin. she took your mouth in a deep kiss, tongue thrusting deep.

breaking away, billie flipped you slightly, maneuvering so your legs now intertwined. she hooked one thigh over yours, positioning your cores together. your pussy lips brushed against billie’s, both swollen and ready. “look at me,” billie growled, grabbing your chin to force eye contact. “you’re mine. i wanna hear you say it.”

“i’m not yours, billie.” you panted, your hips bucking upwards instinctively.

billie slapped your inner thigh sharply, the sting making you yelp. “wrong answer, babygirl.” she rocked forward, clits grinding together in a slow, deliberate slide. the friction sent sparks through both of you— wet heat meeting wet heat, slick sounds filling the room as billie increased pressure.

you cried out in response, hands grasping the couch cushions. billie was relentless, thrusting her hips in a rough rhythm, your pussies slapping together with each movement. she leaned forward, biting your neck, marking you as she scissored harder, faster. “you feel that? huh?” billie’s hand slapped across your face with a loud smack. “that’s me taking you the fuck back.”

billie’s breathing becomes ragged. “c-cum for me, baby. show me you still want this.” her voice weakening with each thrust. your clits rubbed directly now, swollen and throbbing, the direct contact making your eyes roll back. billie’s slickness mixed with yours, easing the glide as she ground down viciously, chasing her high.

you shook your head, but your body obeyed. your heat clenched, waves of pleasure rippling throughout as you came, soaking billie’s thigh with your release.

as you shuddered in aftershocks, billie angled her hips for deeper contact, your folds parting and pressing in a frantic trib. the room echoed with moans and the wet smack of flesh. billie came quickly after with a guttural groan, her wetness spilling over your pussy, marking you completely.

"mmm," billie moaned before taking her thumb to your cheek, embracing you. that is, until she tugs at your bottom lip with it and you oblige, opening your mouth. she slips her thumb onto your tongue, and you swirl it around before closing your lips and sucking. "take it baby, take it just like that." she continued, softly continuing to rocking her core against yours.

her body shook once, twice before she collapsed next to you, her own orgasm shaking her to her core. breathing heavy, billie used what seemed to be her last bit of strength to plant a sweet, gentle kiss on your forehead before plopping back down next to you on her back.

"let's get you cleaned u-" 

turning her head to the side, you were completely passed out now. on your back, breathing softly as the alcohol took you from cohesion to restful sleep.

not that you were aware, but billie quietly cleaned you up. she slipped one of her baggy t-shirts over you, careful not to wake you. you looked so peaceful, especially after recent events. 

"sweet dreams, sweetheart," billie cooed, stroking your hair as she draped an arm around you. she pressed her breasts against the bare of your back, pulling you into her arms. "we'll talk in the morning." she said to nobody.

[minasw0rld]

I’m so gay

[suntaxi]

imagine being katseye’s little puppy they just have around in their house (*´ー｀*) (fem!reader)

warnings (+ sections they’re in): sfw + nsfw!!! (no nsfw for yoonchae tho), poly!kats + reader, vagina referred to as “cunt” and “pussy”, the word “puppy” as a pet name, sophia: r goes through heat + face riding, dani: g!p + somnophilia, lara: exhibitionism, megan: strap-on + overstim + dacryphilia, manon: sex tape + toys + voyeurism (kinda)

a/n: happy kinktober

~ Sfw!

You were given to Katseye by Hybe as their collective present for not being left in the dust and keeping up with their newfound fame, only two years into their careers. Being an idol was stressful, and a cute puppy lifted everyone’s spirits during long rehearsals and even longer practices.

Fortunately, you had all the benefits of both puppy and human. Soft fur, cute ears, and an even cuter tail that made your entire body shake with excitement when it wagged. But what set you apart from the average puppy was the fact that you were a fully functioning person too.

Maybe fully functioning is a stretch. Relying on the Kats was practically your day job.

On her days off, Sophia loves baking cookies with you since it always makes your face light up in the cutest way. Granted, you and Dani fight over cookie dough like kids but she always manages to give in when you start to whine. The two of them have to pull you away from the oven since the cookies baking are apparently too hypnotizing for you to look away from. Of course you huff and squirm, but you can’t escape when you’re squished between Sophia and Dani’s death grip.

Lara and Megan prefer having you sprawled across their laps while watching a random movie. Though, most times they don’t pay attention to the movie and opt to coo and aww at your sleeping face. They like to watch you sleep for the off-chance you start to run while you dream—the sight is just too cute. But eventually they get bored and miss your personality, so you’re often woken up to their kisses and pats.

Manon really likes dressing you up in her baggy clothes and watching the fabric fall to your thighs. Yoonchae also likes to stop by since you remind her of her cat back in Korea—Oreo. Whenever the Kats have matching outfits for performances, Manon makes sure you get an outfit too so you don’t feel left out. Yoonchae gets the worst cuteness aggression when you show off your matching outfit and it takes everything inside of her not to pet you until your fur gets matted.

Impromptu photo shoots regarding you are also quite common in the Katseye house. When you’re asleep, when you’ve just woken up and your hair is all tousled, and especially when you’re cuddled up against one of the members.

In a life full of performances, interviews, and practices, the Kats couldn’t be happier to have a cute puppy to come home to everyday.

~ Nsfw!

Lara, the evil woman she is, likes to mess with you for fun. Sometimes when you’re only wearing a shirt and panties, Lara loves hearing your breath hitch when she palms your cunt like it’s nobody’s business. Especially when the Kats are all hanging out in the living room and you’re cradled between Lara’s thighs—her front to your back.

“You’re wet, puppy.” She leaned in close, whispering into your ear.

You quickly shake your head, not trusting your voice—worried that a whine might escape your throat.

“In front of everyone, too. I bet that’s what you like, hm? You want me to finger you in front of all the girls?” Fortunately, the Kats are all busy talking amongst themselves while soft music and a movie played in the background. Unfortunately, Lara was set on embarrassing you.

Lara reached for a blanket under the guise of you being cold, draping it over the both of you. Her hand immediately ran down the fur of your stomach—leaving shivers in their wake.

“Laraaa.” You whined. Quiet enough for only Lara to hear but just loud enough to make sure she knew you were embarrassed.

She can’t help but laugh at your expression before dipping two fingers into your soaked cunt. The other Kats were right there. And Lara was too busy relishing in your little whines to care. Who could blame her? Everyone knew you sounded cuter when you were embarrassed.

Maybe another day she’d lift up the blanket and show her members how utterly soaked you were at the thought of them catching you two, but unfortunately she’s only human. So her will to keep you embarrassed falters as you look up at her with tears pricking your eyes and a pout on your face.

Lara sighs, knowing you’ve won her little game when she picks you up into her arms and tells the Kats she’s going to sleep in your room tonight. Of course, they know the both of you are lying since you weren’t exactly known for being quiet.

Sophia always wants to hold you in her arms when you get your heats. The first time you got your heat, Sophia was the first person you went to for help. You knew that Sophia would take care of you and know exactly what to do. After she quickly showered you to get your body temperature a little lower, Sophia brought you to her room so you could hopefully get some sleep.

Hopefully.

Unfortunately, Sophia underestimated the intensity of your heat. Of course she did research just in case a day like this came, but all the articles said heats were usually stronger around the second or third day. You were on day one and still whining like you wanted Sophia’s baby in you.

Which, don’t get her wrong, the idea wasn’t terrible. But it definitely wouldn’t help you right now.

Sophia usually worked best under pressure—a trait she acquired from being Katseye’s leader—but feeling you grind against her thigh and hearing your uncharacteristically loud whines clouded her mind with nothing but your presence.

In a single movement, Sophia moves your body off of her thigh, and onto your knees. Before you can register what’s going on, fingers are being pumped into your cunt at a rapid pace. You hold onto her neck for support and try to ride her fingers, but Sophia stops you with her free hand on your waist.

“Mahal, let me do the work. Just feel good, puppy.” Her voice is soft enough to make you cry. You’re just about to before she lays down and manhandles your dripping cunt right above her face with the most pussy-dunk look.

The moment her tongue meets your soaking pussy, a moan escapes your throat before you have time to suppress it. Sophia gently encourages you to ride her tongue with her hands moving your hips forward and back. Your pace becomes faster and faster as Sophia pushes you to hump her face so she can thrust her tongue deeper into your cunt.

Without warning, you cum with a moan while Sophia happily laps at your release. Your chest was heaving, but your heat still persisted. It was going to be a long night for Sophia if she couldn’t fuck you to sleep.

Megan can’t look at you without wanting to squish your little cheeks until they’re red. Her cuteness aggression is bad, and she loves making it obvious. One of her favorite ways to show it is bending you over in front of her mirror.

Megan can’t help it! Watching your cute tongue lolling out and the fucked-out expression clear on your face was adorable! Of course she’d do anything to keep you like that.

She loves making your back arch until your tail is basically wagging in her face. Most times she’ll tug on it since she knows it makes you squirm against her cock a little more. Since her strap is on the thicker side, it took some time to fully take the stretch. But when you ease into it, Megan happily rams into your pussy until you’re begging her to slow down.

But when she eventually lets you cum, Megan doesn’t stop fucking you. She’d give anything to see that cute fucked-out expression again. She likes watching tears trickle down your face and leave a wet patch on the sheets. The only time she stops is when she flips you over to kiss the tears from your cheeks and make you watch her strap fill you to the brim.

Eventually, Megan stops fucking you raw when she cums at the sight of you crying for her to slow down. You’re both out of breath when she’s finished, but Megan knows she didn’t go too far when you pepper little kisses across her face. Unfortunately, the action makes her even hornier. You realize it’s going to be a long night when Megan lines up against your cunt for a second time.

Daniela makes it obvious you’re not the only needy one in the house. After a particularly hard day at practice and arriving home later than the Kats wanted, Dani beelines to your room without a thought. Since it was pretty late, the woman watches your chest rise and fall under your blanket and can’t help but admire how the moonlight looked on your eyelashes.

Dani needed you. She didn’t even know what she needed you for. To see you cry for her cock or for her cuddles—Dani would decide once she woke you up. Actually, she decided long before then.

Crawling on your bed to where you were lying down, Dani pushed aside the covers to watch her sweet girl sleep a little longer. That is, before she pushed up your shirt to find the only thing keeping your dripping cunt away from her was the lacy panties she bought for you on a whim.

Dani licks a stripe up your clothed pussy and savors the taste, breathing in your scent before discarding your panties somewhere in your room. Pulling down her sweats just enough to release her dick, Dani happily teases her cock around your entrance as if you were awake to beg her for more.

Slowly, Dani eases her way into you with a groan. The pressures of the day didn’t matter when she could come home to her cute puppy girl and play with her whenever she wanted to. With intent to thrust deeper, Dani throws one of your legs over her shoulder and watches you start to blink awake.

You’re barely conscious before Dani starts to fuck you deeper into your bed. As she leans over you with a grunt, you can’t help but hold onto her arm for support. Her ragged breaths are a clear indicator of the type of day she’s had. Every time she pulls back, there’s a split second where you hate the emptiness between you two—only for her to fill you back up again.

You can tell Dani’s about to cum when her hips start to stutter and her moans get louder. She looks at your face with a pleading look reserved for only needy girls—she wanted to cum in you. Even with a nod and a deep inhale, you’re still not used to Dani’s huge loads keeping you full all night.

In the future, Manon wants to film an entire movie fully under her direction. Of course, she wouldn’t be thrust into a blockbuster movie just because she wanted to. No—she had to start small. At least, that’s what Manon told you when she said she wanted to film a sex tape with you.

Cameras, ring lights, and an assortment of toys waited for you as you walked into Manon’s room—naked like she said—with your hands wringing together in nervousness. Manon sat behind the camera, noticing your presence. She waved you over and happily pulled you into a deep kiss before leading you in front of the camera.

She guided you to sit on a comfortable spot on the floor, and watched your eyes twist in concern at the dildo suctioned onto the floor and waiting for your cunt.

“Just tell me if you want to stop. Okay, puppy? I won’t be mad if you want to.”

You nod at her words, and your wagging tail overrides the nervousness in your body.

“All you have to do is follow my lead. Relax. Don’t push yourself.”

You nod again, but this time Manon sighs at your action.

“Use your words. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, I promise!”

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear.”

Manon guides your hips to the dildo suctioned onto the floor, making sure your cunt is perfectly lined up before she lubes it. The girth of the toy makes you inhale sharply and you haven’t even gone past the tip. Manon continues guiding your body down the dildo, until half of it is lodged into your pussy. The stretch makes you whine, but after a quick confirmation, Manon knows you can take the rest of it.

With Manon’s help and a little extra lube, you take the dildo to its hilt and moan at the fullness. Under Manon’s instructions, you start to slide up and down the dildo, breath becoming ragged as it stretches your insides.

Manon can’t help but suck in a breath when she points the camera at your body—bouncing like you were a porn star. Every now and again you’d glance at Manon like you were asking for her approval. It took everything in her body not to turn off the camera and take you for herself.

Eventually, your thighs start to falter. You look back at Manon—a silent plead to let you cum. When she nods in approval, you chase the pleasure and cum around the dildo anchored in your cunt.

do we fw puppy!reader… or naw… 😓

[barnesmoons]

how i feel as a certified FREAK knowing it’s finally kinktober: